Instinct
by brightondemon
Summary: Years after the world war Jin had started, Mishima Zaibatsu has plans for some of the Tekken fighters who have been in the tournaments before. Which then leads a lost Steve Fox to a completely and unrescuably lost Christie Monteiro.
1. A Real Cup of Coffee

One, two, three.

Deep breaths. . . One, two, three. She felt the wind breezing around her body as if it caressed each of her curves and every single part of her skin, like how it did each day. She counted the days. It has been twenty one months, six hundred thirty days ever since she found nothing but gray in her solace, the gray her sorrow has crafted.

Solace, that went too well with this wind and the killling weather of september. With the unadjusted sky and the in between weather, that could actually represent the strange weather of her own too well. Lately she was troubled with nightmares once again, her lack of sleep was back. Whenever she thought that she was back on her feet, she fell once again. Not that she could not manage on her own, hell, she wasn't to be underestimated and she knew; however it was that. . .

At the first months, she was fine. She really was, rejecting the reality, living her life, knowing who was where, what was happening. But then something sparkled. Something happened, a spark had relapsed.

A familiar spark relapsed that was followed by a familiar fear and from then on, she knew she was trapped. She knew the circle and the consequences. However the complexion of mania, cigarettes and tears she chose to ignore. And with that, came her slowly becoming a living ghost. It all made much more sense that way, truly. After all, ghosts were crafted from a blank page. Cleansed from their sins, insecurities and loss. They were a canvas that had lost their true colour and became a pure yet sickening white. No rage left, nor happiness. Nor any sort of emotion.

Logic and numbness only, with a wise mindset because of their previous life. The question was, did ghosts really were victorious at the end?

It was cold, yet not. After all, she grew up in Brazil. Every weather was cold to her anyways. That included the weather of Liverpool too. Liverpool being another story of her uncertain state of mind, she thought that getting away from Brazil woulf be a new start; would make her forget.

Would kill the ghost and make her heart beat once again. However, that wasn't the case. Not at all.

She got off from the small balcony and walked back in, reeking of cigarettes inside her sweatpants. She knew that it was morning, perhaps eight. She didn't sleep and was too lazy to walk all the way back to the kitchen; where the clock was. She didn't own a phone ever since she left her hometown, she prefered to be completely alone. That meant zero signals and a hundred percent of her. It felt empty at first but after realizing that a phone would be the least of her worries, she was more comfortable. (The building manager had a phone anyways, she could use that when it was needed.) Her comfort also came within another fact: She was completely off the radar. No phone, none of her old belongings, her old house sold, her last name changed to her mothers old one. No one could find her, him especially. Why would Eddy want to find her anyways? Wasn't he the one who left time and time without saying anything?

It was. .

Stupid. Just stupid.

She took a quick shower because of how uncomfortable her clothes felt, they were really sweaty; she had to do her laundry. After combing her long hair, (It had gotten so long, it was uncomfortable. Christie hated it. Hated hated hated. She hated her messy hair, bitten off nails, chewed lip and her knuckles that had gotten numb and been painted with scars because of punching the walls; at really mad nights.) she decided to put on her lilac sundress. It was one of the few things she grabbed from her old home and it was only because it was her mothers. Her things always made her feel more safe and the lilac dress was the only thing that had that power at the moment.

One, and only.

Back from the laundry place, Christie found herself wandering around the streets of various shops. She liked to wander. Especially on mornings, on saturday mornings. Even though she had lost track of days, it was a fine morning. She liked the fresh air and the good view from a near cliff right next to the old cinema building, so she walked to the bench on the cliff and decided to sit and enjoy the view for a few minutes. Far, there was a lake. A crystal clear lake right next to the lonely field of lavenders, accompanied by the greenest trees she could ever see. She could also see a set of stones around the field, in a lilac-ish gray colour. The sun rays sparkled on the lake perfectly, it reflected right inside her eyes and made her adore the view. The breezes moved the lavenders and there were too much of them; she swore, she felt like the scent was present for a second.

Christie then found her breaths steadying, which made her take out her small notebook, the thick ruby red one. She started to take some short notes, as the voice of the pencil felt appealing; after filling a few pages she closed it. Even though she would love to keep studying the view, she felt her need for coffee returning. So she got up and went to the diner right beside the cinema building.

It was rather quiet at the early morning, but still filled with late night workers. Christie was quick to find herself a spot, instead of wasting her time with goofing around. She looked outside the window. Not much. A teen with his bike, a girl with her headphones on, a couple walking down the street, some guy jogging. . . The sun was reflecting through the window, only to make her looks deeper.,

"Miss? How can I help you?"

Christie got out of the trance quickly and muttered a quick apology to the waitress to keep her waiting.

"It's alright, I have time. You must be working late, that's tiring, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess," Christie shrugged her off. "One black coffee,"

"Please." She didn't like being rude.

The coffee was there. The coffee wasn't there. The coffee was there. The coffee wasn't there. The coffee was there. The coffee wasn't there. The coffee was there. The coffee wasn't there.

The coffee was there.

The coffee wasn't there.

She let out a deep breath.

"Close your eyes," She muttered to herself, chewing on her lip. "Easy, Christie, easy. You can handle it,"

The coffee was there. She took a sip, it was okay. It was calming. Good, she thought. Maybe I can eventually get a handle on it. I mean, I got over it when I was little. I should be okay. I will be. Good. Good.

All good.

The coffee was there and it was great. Like the painting on the wall, or the piano at the end of the bar. It was wooden, really old like her mothers. It was too bad that Christie could never learn the piano like her mother, it would be another things from her. A part to keep and play on forever.

Christie saw the hot coffee dripping on the sundress.

A part to play on forever.

Except it had never occured.

On the other side of the diner, a blonde man with headphones had entered the diner; returning from his night long training. Even looking at him could fill one with energy, and it certainly had.

"Steve! Hey man," Will almost shouted behind the bar, which bummed Steve out a little. He already had a headache. "Easy, Will. . Just here for some breakfast,"

"No drinks? I thought that we would drink our arses off this morning? It's friday! You know how things work on friday the twenty sixth." (Each month's twenty sixth day, Steve and Will would drink from morning to after noon. It was a tradition for seven years with zero purpose.)

"I'm sorry. . But I have to train more today. I have a match next week and I have to win this one if I want to be in the league this year," Steve shrugged as an apology, though he knew it wasn't really enough. He had been neglecting his friends a lot lately. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy them- god no. It was. . Something internal. He had been thinking ever since the fourth tournament and after a few more tournaments it did sort of go away - the thoughts- but lately he had been plagued by the strangest dreams. All leading to one certain direction, Steve made sure to write all his dreams down. Multiple times a week, the same dreams about the same people, the same place. . If only he could get a fine grip, something he could hold on to. But nothing was present, there was always a blankness. Such as Doctor Kliesen.

Seriously, where even was doctor Kliesen?

He had too many questions, too many thoughts, lonely nights, thunderstorms, lack of sleep and zero cigarettes left.

And at the precise moment especially since his matches were close, the least of the things he had was time.

"Will, I really am. I'm terribly sorry if it doesn't sound sincere but I am. Please know that," He sighed when he saw Will taking in a deep breath.

"One month. That, Fox, is how long you have until I start to dig in to the shit that has been bothering you. Just. One. Month."

Steve found himself smirking with his friends reaction and reached for a quick hug, which Will returned. "Oh, and who will you fight next week? I completely forgot." Will added. Steve's mind raced to the part where it kept the career he managed to save.

"Guy named Barton Ross, American. I have to train harder,"

"Huh, well, I think you should. . But not like he's much better than you." A feminine voice came from behind the bar, the chains on her boots echoing as she walked next to both men. Steve could smell her perfume the minute she arrived, as if she poured the bloody bottle all over herself, especially inside the wind that hit his face caused by the movement of her blonde, wavy hair.

"Cindy has been catching up lately, with boxing." Will pointed out. "Since you have been so terribly bad at it, she decided to be your. . . What was the word again? Mother?" Will turned to Cindy with a puzzled expression, which made Cindy roll her eyes. (Which had the thickest and the most expensive eye pencils all around it, so much, it had to be thought of at least once.)

"It's called being a friend, dumb arse. When was the last time you detected potential threaths for your friends career's- or even your friends sake? Anyway, Steve. I really don't think that he's thay much of a trouble- How, the fuck, ever; be prepared. You own this but still be. If you win this one, that creepy danish dude will be definitely intimidated." Cindy expressed her observations, poking his shoulder lightly.

"Wait, the creepy danish guy?" Will was puzzled again.

Cindy, for the first time, struggled to express what she meant to say. "Ahhhh, you know. . The guy with platinum blonde hair but a black thick mustache? Giant nose?"

Steve sighed. "It's the guy with the scar that covers his whole neck. Walking Dead guy?" He found himself smirking once again at the nickname Cindy and he had crafted a few months ago. (It was like his head was ripped off and stitched back together. Yes, that bad.)

"Yes! Yes!" Cindy almost found herself jumping from excitement, perhaps it was the pun or maybe how much he missed making fun of everything with her friend Steve.

"So, shortly, you got this. I'd still keep working on my arse though," She advised.

"Like how you should be right now?" Will pointed out the lack of service inside the diner bar. The crowd was slow since they were tired, however Will did have a point. It was calm yet still a work atmosphere.

"Will you ever stop bossing me around?"

"I'm not. I just don't want Kyle to fire you."

"Look, I'm alright. The only customer that I should maybe be checking is the notebook girl anyway. I'll be right back," Cindy waved at them with her left hand, both her and the voice of her moving bracelets going further quickly. She grabbed her own notebook just in case with a great speed, also picking up the thermos.

"What sort of a ridiculous nickname is 'notebook girl'? I mean I do understand that you guys just like to give out nicknames to regulars to remember but it's not even funny,"

"Honestly, that's not a joke. The girl is just really silent and odd, so we just happen to call her that because she always has this notebook around. Just comes in here on early morning or really late, has some coffee, sometimes eats; that's about it. She's a regular and we just remember her by that."

Steve was distracted, so he found himself asking to keep the conversation going. "Why odd?"

Will let out a breath, thinking. He licked his upper lip and fixed the caffeine patch on his neck. "Sometimes I see her fringe at nothing, sometimes when she writes in that notebook it looks like she's writing as if her life depends on it. . Like, too much force on a fucking pen. And when I think that she's more normal, she just starts to whisper stuff to herself. She just seems that way,"

"Can I get you anything else?" Cindy asked to the brazilian.

"Sorry but, what's the time?"

Cindy checked her wrist watch. "Nine thirty."

"Can I get the 'Breakfast Special' right here?" Christie pointed at the menu. "Oh, and a refill."

"Alright, let me know if you want anything else."

"Thank you,"

"But Cindy doesn't think that way. Cindy says that she's struggling."

Steve lifted one of his brows, as Will went on.

"But I, just think that the girl simply might be simply weird. Reminds me of my cousin Kathy. And well, you know Kathy."

"Yeah, yeah. . Look, I need to go. Could you please hand me my breakfast? I'm sorry but I need to get back," Steve muttered, knowing that he had to fulfilll the distraction that had occured.

Will grabbed the paper bag and handed it to Steve harshly with a serious set of mimics this time. "One month, Steve; I swear to god. One month and I'm getting into this. Now go."

Steve grinned slightly at his friend and then walked out of the diner bar with firm steps.

Later on, Christie had returned from her wandering, feeling a little better because of the fresh air and the coffee. Which did make a lot of things worse, -caffeine- but hey, it would be okay if she slept later on. (Thank god, pharmaceuticals.)

However as she was walking home, her eye had caught something. The current owner of her old place in Brazil had bought the house for a cheaper number for a certain deal: She would send Christie her mail, would give her a job she could work from home and let her know about whatsoever went on back in her home. And if someone ever asked her about Christie, the answer had to to be: "I don't know. She sold me the house and went away."

So after Christie saw the shipped mail, she decided to take a look. She would probably not work today anyways, mail could be a good distractor from some certain unwanted thoughts. The bank, the ads, the birthday cards, some letters. . . But beyond all, something caught her eye.

Black envelope, white logo. Her name was plated in silver in a fancy font, as she felt how many papers were in the bold envelope. It almost even had a fabric texture, it wasn't even normal paper. The corners were red and she felt that there weren't only papers in the envelope but also. . An electronic? It was stiff yet she couldn't tell.

She felt confusion running through her vessels as she read what wrote on the envelope. The letter. . . Was from the Mishima Zaibatsu.


	2. Friends and Silver Letters

Plots behind his monotone gaze, gone. Gone in the world war, leaving Christie behind. All for the zaibatsu. Fucking Mishima Zaibatsu. Was Eddy that faceless yet? Could he be the one who sent this? Christie found herself wondering, wished that she could reach at least a level of certainty. However she had the memo that she had lost her connection with what was called reality months ago. So she tried to reach someone else. Someone she had always despised deeply with all her heart; Christie Monteiro: The Brazilian Pin- Up!

Her mother the gun towards her heart, her pearls making noises as her body shook. Mother Monteiro's mascara ran down her face, her flawlessly red smile apart. Even though her hiccups echoed inside the insanely white room that was blessed with all the gold and all the luxury that could feed hundreds, she remained smilling as Christie gazed into her big eyes, that were all red because of her fathers lies.

"Be pretty, my Christie. You be pretty. Girls like you and me. . We won't make it, Christie. I was smart, look at me now, can you see; Christie? Can you see what I have done?"

Hiccup. Metal clanking.

"You be pretty, my Christie."

Pin- Up Christie always knew better anyway. She could get out of ever situation, she wasn't like Christie. She wasn't a ghost, she wasn't a failure. She was just. . . Something. Something that was else and exact the opposite. However what pin up Christie could know was that Eddy was not that prideless. Also that she was hiding well enough too. . . It couldn't be Eddy.

And if it was so. . What could those monsters possibly want from her?

Steve hated the fact that there was no time. Seconds, minutes, hours. . . Weren't all only human? We have made a system, some set of rules and applied them all over the world. Time was something that we could never ever reach, something both shorter and longer than itself; that it was never to be figured.

So, there was no time. No time for insecurities, no time to find motivation, no time to stop or no time to dream. Time was there to pass and Steve couldn't let it go. In fact, Steve could never let it go. He simply wanted to get ahold of something, he wanted something to stay. He wanted steadyness both physical and mentally, he wanted to find that. He wanted to have that and then leave; because when something was to stay steady it was to be stolen from him. Steve couldn't remember fully getting a grip on himself or any of what he ever had in his lifetime but if he could ever find the steady, he would make it last forever by any means.

He passed through the door of the gym and went to the locker room immediately. It was almost noon anyway, so he had to train until it was seven; at least. His knuckles hurt less day by day, so that was good. He knew that things were working then. He found himself carefully bandaging his bruised up knuckles tightly, layer over layer. . He did wince at times but hey, it was less. Steve loved the rush though, the rush he felt with the pain. It made him feel prepared. Pain was safe. When you were in pain, when it hurt so much that you only wanted to fucking vanish, that was when it was fucking working. Well, to him at least. Not everyone can handle it, he would think sometimes. Was it a bit egoistical? Maybe. Did he really care? Not really.

He could spot some fellow boxers traning too, some his friends and some just overly ambitious annoying egoistical ones. Aside from them, he felt happy to see little beginners learning the defence poses with an insane love to learn more. Steve could remember when he first began; he was only fourteen, how could he even forget! Years after escaping the Mishima Zaibatsu with the help of Emma, he had ran into his teacher at the dark streets of London. The man, Colin, had felt bad for Steve back then and had took him in. Steve knew for sure that he would have starved if Colin and him didn't run into each other years ago. He made a mental note to give him a call, it had been a while since they had last spoken.

After he had warmed up, he started to walk towards the massive pile of sandbags simply thrown in a corner and picked something more challenging than yesterday. Increasing the difficulty would only be right. Even though he felt the familiar wave of electricity running inside his veins and precisely hitting his left arm, Steve just smiled.

"Remember," He muttered to himself.

"It will pass, Steve. . . "

Emma.

Suddenly he felt his motivation go rock bottom again, remembering the fact that both Emma and Nina never left his dreams. Emma with her motherly, soft words and Nina. . Being Nina? He didn't even truly know who or what she was; she was simply in the files and some woman he had a strange encounter with. But Steve just could tell that she had something to do with this mess. And even though she didn't, she had to know something. She was all over the database after all. The Corporation couldn't make that big of a typo.

He had to clear his head now. These thoughts belonged in the night, these thoughts were to steal his sleep; not his time.

"It will pass, if you could just let. . ."

Steve let out a deep breath, gently caressing the scar on his left arm.

"Let it all in."

The envelope was there. Black. The sunrays hit the name on the cover. There was a glass of water on the cheap table, right next to the envelope. This was really happening. They were there. This was real. Not fiction. Not an experiment or anything.

This was happening.

The envelope stared at her and Christie stared at it.

Steve really liked music while training. He liked the weather it could craft inside him, especially while training. He simply put his iPod on shuffle and hoped for the best. He listened to all types of music, though it was mostly Queen or some good tracks with solid instrument solos. A personal favourite of his was Queen's Stone Cold Crazy; precisely while training or running. It just had the power to create another atmosphere, with the track present Steve felt nothing but his blood match the guitar, he didn't feel human. What he felt was zero control and an impossible level of focus and maybe even something close to achieving something almost perfect.

It was like one of those moments when all you did was to precisely do it and do it and do it until you had lost yourself for infinite times and didn't even know. It was losing yourself, it was leaving your body to finally be something more; it was leaving your limits and becoming someone else.

Steve lived for that.

Anymore anymore cannot take it anymore

Gotta get away from the stone cold law

Crazy, stone cold crazy

This was happening. Christie reached for the envelope with a crazy speed and opened it quickly before the certainity was gone. Her eyes scanned the black paper quickly, taken aback.

Do you ever feel sad?

Like you are a forgotten piece of the society, like you failed miserably; or you just don't feel?As if the world is just a fake ideal that you are supposed to keep up with? Do you ever feel like the mindset you were given was in fact too empty?

It is all right, a lot of people do! In fact, we are here to fix that. As the Mishima Zaibatsu, we know that it is only our duty to finally step in to something no one could ever imagine about, something that is too subjective; the unknown.

The human mind.

The human mind works with the chemical balance inside your brain. It was always meant to changed, fixed; for the greater good. For your good! So if you find yourself in a blank space, why not be healthy? Why not improve.

Come to Mishima Zaibatsu.

Because you were meant to be fixed.

The night had started to take place as Steve walked out of the shower. He felt his body burning with pain, yet he enjoyed it. He wrapped a towel around his lower hip and walked to the sink, watching his reflection. He often found himself odd, especially after finding out that he was basically a lab rat. The blue eyes, the way his hair grew, his brows, his whole face. . All just felt too fake.

He then brewed some tea for himself and prepared for a good rest. He wanted to rest his body and thoughts, so he decided to spend his night reading. It would be the perfect rest indeed, being away from all. Though he knew for sure that the earth would stop turning if he had one bloody night off when the phone on the table rang.

"Hello?"

"Fox!"

"Hwoarang? What's with the rush, mate?"

"Where are you?"

"I'm home,"

He could hear Hwoarang gritting his teeth, something he always did when he was being impatient.

"Be more specific. . ."

"England. Good enough?"

"Go check your mailbox."

"What?"

"Do it! Go check your mailbox," Hwoarang ordered.

Steve started to walk towards his door, his brows furrowed. "Did you send me a letter or something?"

The korean groaned. "Just, check your fucking mailbox!" (It was more of a yell that began with a groan. Hwoarang was too good at that.)

"I don't see anything."

"Nothing?"

"Well, did you send me a water bill by any chance?"

"Are- Are you sure?" Hwoarang started to grit his teeth again. "Check one more time."

Steve turned all the letters and bills around to see if any was different, however they were almost all the same. "Just what are you looking for? Can you specify the appearance?"

"It's black."

"What, the envelope?"

"Yes. It has to have your name on it. Does it?"

"There isn't one." Steve sighed, knowing that his friend would keep making a fuss because that was how he covered things when he was worried. With anger.

"I knew it. I knew it! Steve, listen. I'm in Manchester at the moment, been here for a job. Jules gave me a call this morning,"

"Jules? No way,"

"What?"

"Is Jules, Julia? The Indian girl, what was her last name. . . " Steve searched his mind.

"Chang! Look, I don't have enough time. And we can't talk about this on the goddamn phone. I'm getting on the next train, I'll be there tomorrow afternoon. We have to meet,"

Crap. Did Steve have time for that? Maybe he could start training a bit later. . Which would ruin his whole program.

"Is it an emergency, Hwoarang?" Steve muttered quickly, mentally calculating the next day.

"Honestly? I'm not sure. But I'm afraid if we won't be certain about this, things might get out of hand."

Steve found himself nodding towards the level of seriousness Hwoarang has entered. He sighed.

"Go rest, mate. Call me when you arrive, I'll come get you from the terminal. Try to keep yourself calm,"

Hwoarang hung up.

Hwoarang.

Steve placed his book back on the shelf, dissappointed. Just when would he ever get his break? When would Steve just not have something on his plate? It wasn't that he saw Hwoarang as a burden- he would never, ever see a friend as a burden. Especially a close one like Hwoarang- but it wouldn't be so bad to have some time with himself.

He went into the kitchen and swallowed two sleeping pills with some water, then let himself fall on his soft bed. Sleep was a good time, he guessed.

The terminal was crowded but not as crowded as Hwoarang's mind. His arrival was easy and uncomfortable since he slept the whole time, though Steve was a late bloomer this time. But Hwoarang didn't care much since he was grateful for Steve to agreeing to meet. He was a boxer after all, the korean knew that Steve wasn't on really good terms with time. While waiting, he took out the small pocket sized notebook out of his jacket and looked at the two groups of names he had written down just yesterday. He didn't have much numbers but Julia had told him that she would try to call some people too. So maybe if he and Steve brainstormed and Julia informed him about it, maybe they could figure things out. He hoped. Nothing felt like a joke anymore when he had responsibilities, this would feel like nothing a few years ago but now, Hwoarang had things to lose. And even if something dangerous was happening, he wouldn't let it.

Though he couldn't deny that seeing his only British friend at the terminal door made him feel a little easier. "Fox," Hwoarang sighed, giving the blonde a quick hug.

"I'm sorry I'm a little late," Steve apologized, grabbing Hwoarang's luggage.

"I can handle it."

"You've been traveling, let me for now. While we start walking, why don't you talk about the reason you were so anxious last night?"

Hwoarang smirked, then raised one of his brows, "You know, that's why I like you Steve. You're a pussy enough to be completely clueless, yet you always get to the damn point." Hwoarang said loudly, which felt really off to Steve, as if he wanted someone to hear. He knew Hwoarang well, it couldn't be that he was cooperating with the mafia. . . Just when Steve kept rushing his instincts for a clearer state of mind, he noticed that Hwoarang had been showing off his right hand too much.

Steve's eyes then sled to the ink just below his thumb, which said the word "Mabel."

Hwoarang and Steve were a tag team on a previous tournament, which was interrupted with the death of Jinpachi Mishima and the world war Jin Kazama had started. Then the Tekken force started to imprison all the fighters left in the tournament during that time, Steve could remember the exact amount of fighters the tournament had started with seventy fighters and the fourty of them were imprisoned.

He didn't remember who them all were, though some the names he could recall were Lili Rochefort, Bruce Irwin, Miguel Rojo, Julia Chang, Ling Xiaoyu, Anna Williams, Bryan Fury, Paul Phoenix and a mysterious guy, with the name Yoshimitsu.

The fighters were imprisoned for five and a half months, while no one knowing the reason; all of them got questioned. It was only questioning and it drove Steve crazy because why would a corporation like the Zaibatsu keep fighters in that long for questioning? There had to be something. Something that had to be uncovered.

In the long time span, especially with the effect of sharing the same environment except for bed time, fights took place often. Seventeen of the fighters had gone crazy, not being able handle the fact that they were trapped in between the stone walls, the grey suits. . And with the shortage of food and sources that had occured because of the war, it was nothing but chaos in that cold building. People had killed other people to gain more access to the food, it was that terrifying. And soon after that, the fighters had started to gain allies and form groups. Steve and Hwoarang were already inseperateble ever since the fourth tournament, so they were already a team. At the end of the first month, Julia had joined them, saving Hwoarang from getting killed by Bryan.

"Bastard is not even human, and you thought that you could stand a chance against him; just the two of you? Please," Then Julia had introduced them to Miguel and Xiaoyu, her team. Both the korean and the british were impressed that they were lucky enough to not meet complete snakes, because the team was just the opposite. Miguel being bold, grumpy but yet protective of his teammates; Xiaoyu's childish, fun but strong nature and Julia's brain, kindness and fists were just the perfect combination.

There were five other teams just like that, though he could only remember the one with Dragunov, Zafina , Yoshimitsu, Paul and Bruce.

However back to the point, Steve's team had a set of words for different situations. Arrow meant food and water, yellow was danger, blue was when it was gone, cloud meant that someone was injured, lavender meant that someone needed emergency treatment, wood meant that soldiers were in and Mabel, meant that there were listeners around.

Steve looked around and then towards Hwoarang, who nodded. Steve then smiled fakely, then started to joke around and muttered a a quick "Where will it be blue?" quietly.

"Well, wood isn't around. But Mabels are everywhere around the city. Phones, public vehicles, malls. . . Maybe at home or at some place that you are sure that they're not connected to the. . ."

Steve nodded.

Hwoarang looked around as he sipped some of his tea. It was quiet since they had arrived to Steve's apartment, though Hwoarang knew that his friend was tenser than he looked. Ever since they had arrived, Steve kept going through his tablet to reach some old files; or to find a precise reason for the listeners until Hwoarang spoke.

"I'm sorry that this visit wasn't something you expected or hoped for."

"It's nothing to be mad about," Steve muttered, not taking his eyes off the tablet.

"I want you to know that. . . " Hwoarang sighed. "All of this. . Not certain."

Steve turned off the tablet. "What?" He raised his brow, with a pint of anger. "You told me it was urgent."

"It can or can not be dangerous. Do you think that we can just take the chance?" Hwoarang snapped.

"Lord, " Steve stood up, covering his face; frustrated. "I have to win this week. So I am sorry but you better say urgent!"

The hot headed Korean had already had enough with his friends's behavior, so he decided to cut it off before it got too far.

"Do I look like I care? I'm not going to prison again! And especially with the envelopes and the weird stuff that has been happening! Can't you see?"

"See what? Do you even think that I have something to lose? Hell, free food and home in a bloody prison,"

"Fucking hell, Fox! Still the same, thinking that what you have or don't have are more superior to others, I don't care if you still have that idiotic mommy complex! I don't have time to handle your 'presumptions' that can ruin everything!" Hwoarang finally yelled.

There was a brief silence. Steve looked at Hwoarang with a angry but also slightly hurt look while Hwoarang looked at the floor to avoid his gaze. Just when a minute was about to pass, Hwoarang broke the silence.

"I have a kid now, Steve," He whispered. "I know I went too far. I'm sorry but. . . I can't leave him. I can't let him grow up alone," Hwoarang sighed, covering his face in exhaustion.

Steve sighed too, then patted his friend's shoulder. "It's alright mate. . It's alright. Whenever you're ready. Tell me about it, and we'll fight our way out of it."

After fifteen minutes and two cups of tea, Hwoarang started to speak.

"It came four days ago, the black envelope. It was from the Mishima Zaibatsu. Under my name. Miguel had it too, just yesterday he gave me a call. I also made some calls. I couldn't reach Rochefort and the girl Kazama, but Bruce has it. Wulong does too. And Law. And Xiaoyu called me while I was at the train. I was actually surprised because I don't remember giving her my number. Anyway, she has it too."

"That makes. . Six of you. For now. I'll try to reach some people too. "

"We need to wait for Jules to call. She knows more people and you still have to train sometime, you know."

"Cut the crap. I thought that you would eventually say it. Screw it, what was inside the envelope? "

Hwoarang sighed and passed him the black piece of paper. "Snobby fucker,"

Hwoarang smirked when he saw Steve's facial expressions changing as he reached the end.

"You mind was meant to be fixed? The fuck does that mean?"

"I don't know,"

"Please tell me that you're not doing this."

"I'm not that stupid, Fox. But what if they make me?"

"The war is over. They can't just. . Okay, they MIGHT."

"What do we do? This sounds crazier than it should have been!"

"It is. Stay calm. "

"How the fuck can I? They want to experiment on me!"

Steve rolled his eyes. "Just. Stay. Calm. I promise I can help you figure this out. Why don't you give Julia a call? And I will make some coffee and we will discuss this the whole day. I promise we will at least improve this. But we need to know everything we need to know first, alright?"

"Okay."

"Oh," Steve smiled a little, switching the subject before he left. "What is your sons name?"

"Isang." Hwoarang smiled too.

"That's nice. How old is he?" Steve asked, proud of his friend for being a good father.

"He'll be four in a few months,"

"We haven't been talking much for a few years, have we? How is Julia doing?"

"The postpartum depression is gone, completely gone. So she's trying to adjust to motherhood as best as she could. I keep telling her that she shouldn't feel bad for missing out his infant times because that was when you know. . "

"But it's all good now. Michelle and her are taking care of him while I'm trying to fix all of this. And hopefully, I'll just get back to Arizona. "

"You deserve to." Steve remembered how Hwoarang was when they met and how he was now. He was proud of his friend's family, improvement and development. He would never say it, but he was.

"Go take a shower. Call Julia later. I'll go buy some coffee." Steve said, calmly. He then took one of his umbrellas and went out in the streets.

The hell was she supposed to do? It wasn't like she couldn't tell that this was something crazy but she couldn't just let the black paper go. She didn't know why, she knew she hated both the G corp and Zaibatsu, however she felt in between. After all, Mishima Zaibatsu could heal her grandpa. Not that they had made that choice, but they could have. They had the sources after all. Even though Christie denied it, she then noticed that she actually was dumb enough to consider it.

Though, still not dumb enough to do it. Just when she was about to rip the black piece of paper, there was a knock on the door. Christie sighed and walked to the door, leaving the envelope behind.

"Hey, Christie it's Debbie. I don't know if you remember but I'm the daughter of the building manager?" Debbie checked Christie's memory as she played with one of her curls.

"Yeah, I remember. How are you Debbie?"

"I'm good, thanks. Are you? You look sort of pale and like you have cried."

"Oh no," Christie faked a smile, "Allergies. What made you come up here, honey?"

"My mother told me that there was someone calling you. You can come downstairs and chat if you'd like?"

Someone calling Christie? Christie, who had been gone for god knows since when?

Was it Eddy?

"Who is?" Christie questioned, immediately feeling tense.

Debbie struggled for a second, "Uh. . Oh!" she smiled a little. "Lili. Some girl called Lili."

"Rochefort, by any chance?"

"Yes! How did you. . ?"

"Fuck-" Christie cussed. "Shit! Don't tell your mom I said that."

"Thank you, Debbie." Christie said, as she got ahold of the phone.

"What?"

"I wasn't talking to you, Lili."

"Bonjour, Christiné! It's been a while, right?"

"Lili, it's just Chris-tie. Okay? And yes, I agree. Is there a reason for you to call me after years?"

"You want me to get to the point?" Lili then let out a deep breath. "I forgot how much I liked you Christiné. You don't do chit chat."

"Christie! When will you ever stop doing that?"

"Did you receive a certain mail, Christiné?"

Christie stopped for a second when a certain wave of shock hit her.

"What mail?"

"Black envelope-"

"With silver words." Christie continued.

There was a sudden silence at the both lines, continued with Lili's utter anxiety, which was completely strange considering how she usually was.

"When did you get it?"

"I don't know? I read it today but I don't know when it came-"

"What do you mean you don't know?!"

"Calm the fuck down, Rochefort, I think it's been a month or something."

"So. . . Alphabetically. . . Huh."

"Lili, what do they mean by this? Just tell me,"

"They're trying to get us! Well, some of us. And some, they did." Lili whispered, obviously sniffling.

"No one is stupid enough to fall for it, they can't get us." Christie shrugged.

"They got her," Lili sniffed once again.

"Who?"

"Asuka. She wasn't at the fucking dojo and the dojo was just trashed! We have been allies before, Christiné, I need you! Help me and I'll, I'll give you money? Something you want?"

"How did you find me?"

"I have unlimited sources. I can help you with a favour too."

"Since when is Asuka missing?" Christie sighed.

"A few days. And I contacted some other fighters too, some people also received it. They're planning something and they're after us, I know it!"

"Who is 'us'?"

"Your city. Diamand Avenue, Fourth Street, number ten. There's a cafe and a black limo in the front. Be there in twenty."

The line was dead.

"Crap."

 _ **Hello! Thanks for reading. I just want to let you know that Im really sorry if this has been boring, but I promise things will get more exciting soon, Im just taking my time for it! There isnt much Christeve already unfortunately and I want to make it good. Please leave a review about your thought because I really want to improve! Loves .**_


	3. Trouble In the Diamond Avenue

Christie found herself in between the pendulum of going or not. However, Asuka was gone. Asuka, her old teammate. Now she didn't know her as well as Lili. She did not. However, Christie had always had another feelings about Asuka. But it weren't bad ones, it was about her good heart and well. . Hot headed nature. So Christie felt responsible towards the missing girl, simply because she didn't deserve it. So she thanked Debbie and left the building.

Meanwhile Steve was just getting back from the third bakery visit of his since Hwoarang ate like a sailor. But it was fine, he needed the carbs anyway. He was just really tired and he would die for some sleep. . And for some relief. And for something to rip him off everything. He only wanted to 'be'. To not be attached to anyone or thing, he just wanted to breathe.

But it didn't look like he ever would, sadly.

His eyes caught something.

Hwoarang's cell phone rang like crazy. At first he was afraid of a bad call, however he was still pleased as ever to hear from his wife. "Anything new, Jules?"

"You might want to sit down for this one," She sighed. "Bryan, Leo, Asuka. All gone!"

"Even that android dick?" He stood up from the couch and paced around the room tensely. "How?"

"I'm trying to contact someone with more connections." Julia simply dismissed his anger since she was quite used to it after all the years.

"What the fuck could they even want? Why those girls? Why these people?"

"I don't know. . . Yet. But if this person writes back, I know we could at least have a grip!"

Hwoarang stopped her all of a sudden when he sensed the enthusiasm in her voice. "Julia, hang up. I don't want you involved in this,"

"What?"

"You heard me! Did you receive a letter? You didn't and I don't want you to, any of you to. Right now, you're the only one who Michelle and Isang have. You need to stay safe until we reunite." The door clicked. Steve's friend.

"I'll call you back. Love you."

"So," The red head helped the man carry the equipment. "You're Roger?"

"Yes," He then plugged in the cables one by one. "I used to work at the LPD. But the police were way too political for me," Roger sighed. "You got somethin' sharp?"

Hwoarang passed him the scissors on the desk.

"So I took my experience and left."

"What do you do now?"

"Paid things. Like private investigators but I'd call myself a private hacker. Ah—That does make me a whore right?"

Hworang smirked. "So how are you supposed to give us the information we need? We all now that you can't just hack the Zaibatsu—Or the G Corp."

Roger snorted while having a sip of his beer, almost choking on it. "Of course not. Hell, they will blow up this apartment before we make it to the elevator. What I am going to do, is basically background searches. You already have a list of some fighters who had received the letters and some who certainly did not. I'll do the research and find out what made some people have it and what made some people elected."

"So basically we'll go by the differences."

"Yes, really basically, yes." Roger smirked.

Christie was glad that at least she had an umbrella. Meeting the primadonna while looking like a bag of crap would be a lot worse. She checked the single piece of paper between her fingers. Diamond Avenue. It was the right spot, she was sure. However just where was Lili? She couldn't see the massive limo anywhere, nor Sebastian. She truly wished that she would at least have the number from Lili. Though just when she was starting to go back, her eyes caught a grey vehicle. (A 2008 Lexus. Simple but nice.) And a pair of blue eyes staring at her soul from the back window, which only open enough to see a bit of the eyes. Christie walked immeditely, quickly closing the umbrella. She opened the back door fastly, then stared at the woman with a state of shock she has never had before.

"Rapide," Lili muttered angrily. "Get in and close the door."

Christie did, not having enough of a breath to not obey. Or the heart in any way.

Lili had scars everywhere. Especially of her neck and her lower face; the others were mostly on her arms. And she could tell they were deep wounds, not the type you could just'get' on a daily basis. Especially that one scar on her temple proved her theory right, being almost as red as a tomato.

"Drive, Sebastian." Lili dismissed her reaction completely, taking out a couple of papers. "Christine, I was starting to think that you'd never show up."

"Me too, frankly." Christie then asked. "What are those?"

"That, my dear, are my files aka the evidence. However we can't look at them until we get to a safe location."

"Are you just going to pretend that this is casual?"

Lili didn't answer.

"What the fuck is going on? Who did that to you?"

"Who do you think it is?" Lili snapped. "Me?"

"It was their guys, wasn't it?"

"Oh, don't pretend the dumbness, Christie. My father is rich and powerful. Who else would dare?"

Christie sighed. "Were you held hostage?"

"Now you're talking,"

"When?"

"A few weeks ago. I didn't know what was happening before either. I mean before they came. I didn't know what they wanted, I didn't know their goal. Nor the letters. I found out about them shortly after. I mean all those things, all." Her voice got too husky at the end, so she drank some water. Just when she was about to go on, Christie touched the wound on her temple, making Lili freeze for a second. Christie's face soured up, her eyes slowly building up the sympathy and the sadness she carried for her friend. "It's not a cut," She muttered to herself. "Lili, why didn't you call me earlier?"

The acid could have went in her eyes. And looking at the wound, it almost did, missing by only a few millimeters. Christie was taken aback when Sebastian parked, while Lili simply started to speak again.

"What's gone is gone. Focus on me. Focus on what I have to say now." Lili placed a brand new phone in between Christie's hands quickly before she could tell, then grabbed them in hers tenderly. "Focus on me, Christie."

"Where the hell is Steve?" Roger complained.

"I wouldn't really mind," Hwoarang said while chewing on some leftover mashed potatoes. "He said that he would train before heading back a little if he was in the mood."

"Well, I'm starting this. I'll just make copies and you guys handle the rest. Is that alright?"

"Yeah, yeah. Let me come help, I know some of them quite well."

"Alright, alright. . . The first one is Julia Chang? You know her?"

"Skip!" Hwoarang closed the tab.

"Mate!"

"Ah, shit. Sorry. That was my wife, so. . ." Hwoarang apologized, a little embarassed.

"You could have said that without jumping from your seat,"

"I said I was sorry!"

"Fine, fine. Leo Kliesen?"

"Ah, yes! Print. Her mother worked for the Zaibatsu."

"Yeah, I can clearly see that. Did she receive the letter?"

"I just know that she's missing. Maybe. I can't remember it if I even heard of it."

"Being missing is a good reason."

"I guess. Wait! Come back. Ling Xiaoyu, she has the letter too. Print."

"And anything about the King's?"

"Nope. Dragunov is missing though. But we have to compare, so let's print all three."

"Done. And we need to hurry up. Text Steve. The servers are unstable. I can't risk losing the connection, some people here are classified."

"Like Bryan Fury?" Hwoarang smiled cockily while grabbing his phone.

"Like Jun Kazama." Roger looked down.

"You don't understand!" Lili yelled, following Christie.

"You're right, I can't! Lili, this isn't what I do. I'm not what you want, I'm not what you expect because you're trying to place a big puzzle piece on a small space."

"I know only you can do this, Christine. I really do. I geniunely do."

"Lili, I'm a thrown away damsel. A loser. No one in their right mind would believe me!" Christie yelled. "Do you think I can take it? I can barely leave my house."

"Being shattered doesn't mean you're weak! Nor being treated like a damsel. Look," Lili grabbed her hands once again, her hands full of scratches.

"I didn't say I believe in you just because I wanted to, nor because I wanted to make you do things. But the thing is Christie, I can only trust you right now. And I know you're enough. Please."

Christie knew this wasn't Lili speaking. Only desperate times called for these measures.

"Lili. This is too serious and it's surreal and I don't know—" Christie almost choked for a second, sitting down.

Lili sighed. "I know. I saw it in your file."

"No one has a choice, Christine."

Christie raised one of her brows, however let her words slip out of her radar. "And how about you?" She managed to ask.

"I need some time. I could thanfully erase some files, so that has to be something. It has to be."

"It was. If it's how you said so, the letter dates got delayed. Do you think they can access the ones you deleted?"

"No. I had a pro with me. Those files are gone for good. I deleted two projects and fifteen fighters."

"That's fifteen and millions of lives, you know that right?"

Christie always liked Lili better when the Primadonna was replaced with her actual emotions. Lili always hid behind the Primadonna, like how Christie hid behind the Pin- Up. Maybe that was why they could always share a smile at nights, no matter what happened during the day. Lili took off her mask, Christie took off hers. And the rest was just big eyes, staring in each others minds.

Lili ignored her. "I need time. There," She took her bronze bracelet off. It was a really seductive yet simple, it had small white stones on it with a small moon figure. She put the bracelet on Christie's wrist. Lili held her hands again for a moment, looking into her eyes. The telephone rang from another room. They didn't bother to see who was calling.

Lili sighed. "It looks good," She said, looking at the floor. "Good." Lili placed a soft kiss on Christie's lips. Christie didn't return it.

Suddenly, Lili's eyes reflected the fire. "Run!" She yelled.

So Christie did, she ran outside the small cabinet. She looked behind. It was there. Really there. Then she saw a man.

The cabinet was there. The cabinet was there.

The cabinet wasn't there. A missile had exploded, she saw fire. She saw actual flames, she kept running. She felt the warmth, she felt the motion, the waves, how the trees moved. Christie kept running. She never saw flames before, it wasn't like how the TV had always shown them. All those stunts, fake orange light. . . It was pure energy, something unearthly. It was concrete yet imaginary and she had to run for that. She had to run for Lili. She found the car at the end of the forest thankfully, quickly starting it.

She had to get rid of these men. She had to get them off the road. She had to reach the city, though that was easy. But there were two cars following and they could easily multiply in the city. However she would definitely get lost in the country. It was worth a shot. She didn't have time to think anyway, for the first time in her life.

A grey car. It was rushing from side to side, raising havoc in the street. Steve's eyes followed it hastily, he could spot four more cars behind it; all black. The windows were darkened so he couldn't spot the faces behind the black cars, damn. However he was he was quick to make a run when the grey car made a rapid left and one of the blacks had gotten off the road, almost crushing a kid. Steve quickly grabbed the little boy with an unbelieveable speed, rushing.

"Are you alright?"

The kid nodded and made a run for his mother. Steve then started to run towards the reason of all, the grey car. It was ironic that he was the only one, everyone was running at the opposite side. It felt like a film scene. It could make him smile if he didn't have to focus. There was a mess at the street altogether, the ruined cars, some bags on the ground, broken windows, a crushed phone booth, ruined store walls. . .

He kept running, the grey car was near. It had suddenly stopped, which made Steve uneasy, however he felt the dizziness leaving when he saw the woman leaving the car. Scarred, with a bullet wound on the shoulder, her brown hair a mess, blood running down one of her brows and barely walking. He stared into her eyes, they looked in an intense emotion; he couldn't figure which, he could say paranoid, scared or maybe even surprised; or sad? He couldn't read it. Those eyes looked so familiar, that gleam was. . . Yet he couldn't understand.

Her eyes widened with the sight of him, her lips apart; adrenaline rushing inside her body, ignoring the chaos around her. She looked around and stumbled towards Steve, the man who was already walking towards her.

"Are you shot?" Steve found himself asking to the woman, holding her arm to look for more wounds. The brunette stopped him, embracing the blonde instead with a tender hug.

"Fox." She muttered quietly.

He raised his brow, now with a new wave of shock. "Do you know me?"

"Go." She muttered. "Just go."

Then all of a sudden just like how the wounded birds did, she ran away from him to the opposite side. She started the car before he could even start running, however he did catch her eyes. They were filled with panic and an uncertain rush, this time he could read it. He read paranoia. He read tension. And he read her lips.

" _I'm sorry."_

She drove away, Steve running after the car with an amazing speed, the car was in no good shape so Steve got closer. . . Much closer, almost. . .

It was so fast. The car was about to turn a corner, just when a black car hit the door next to the driver's seat, that was the last thing he saw before the fog. (?)

Steve attempted to move forward, yet there were gun shots and yelling, more cars came and he was practically blind! He tried to hold onto the concrete, something, yet when he could walk the fog was gone. He let out a deep breath, ran towards the grey car. He leaned down to see if the woman was alright, however there was one important problem.

The woman was gone.


	4. Her

Steve's head was filled with questions as he ran back home, already forgotten about the unnecessary breakfast. Running away from the chaotic scene while trying to stop the awful ringing in his ears, he poorly managed to connect some of the puzzle pieces together. One, black cars with no license plate; two, the familiar brunette; three the fact that the girl knew her. She had no british accent, so she must have been from somewhere else, probably from somewhere near America with that accent. . . She had a few wounds, some deep.

Bloody hell, how could he unsee? She was shot in the shoulder twice. There was also another bullet scratch on her left cheek, she was also drenched in sweat; god knew for how long she had ran from them. He had to hurry. He didn't have a good feeling about this. If she knew her, that stuff could be directed to him any time! What if it was the mafia again, trying to confuse him with the girl? What if it was all a trap?

He was just turning the corner of his avenue, then he felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket. When he reached to grab it, he had second thoughts.

He never placed his phone in his back pocket. He always used his hoodie. He checked his hoodie pocket and felt his phone. His eyes widened for a second, he then took a breath to remain cold blooded. Being impulsive would not help. At all. He casually walked back home. Did not run. Just a casual walk.

"Steve, you better have more than three bagel— " Roger stopped when he saw Steve with no bags but a tensingly neutral face.

"Where the hell were you?" Hwoarang asked, especially when he noticed the lack of bagels. "Did you train first and forget the bagels?"

"You could. . . Say that. I need to have a seat,"

"Roger. . . Could you get Mohammed here some water?" Hwoarang looked directly into Steve's eyes, trying to get attention out of them; an action. But Steve couldn't act more opposite even if he tried. There were simply just too many questions and almost no answers.

"I need to go to the bathroom," He left the living room in a rush, before Hwoarang could even move. "Roger. . . I think you'll have to stay longer." Hwoarang sighed.

Steve locked the bathroom door quickly and took out the phone in his back pocket. It didn't look like any brand he had seen before. Maybe it was from another country. It kept vibrating every ten minutes, it was black and there was only one button on the lower center. No camera, no headphone jack, no other button, no SIM etrance. Just that one button.

He sat on the floor, however something gave him slight pain. It was also from his back pocket. He reached slowly, and there it was.

A Mishima Zaibatsu pin. The phone. The girl. _It was them!_

Steve took a deep breath. He was next. She was gone! He was next. How could he let that happen? He shouldn't have let her go. She was a CLUE. Maybe she knew more than him! How could he be so stupid? He couldn't. He felt like an idiot, how could he let the adrenaline daze him like that? He was a boxer, for christ's sake. He could save her, and he didn't.

She was dead, maybe.

He sighed one more time. And then Steve pressed the button.

"Roger. You have to see this."

Pain was present. She laid, though. Perfectly still, to perfectly. Her thoughts were foggy, and her head hurt; however she was aware that she was perfectly, no less, fine. Which was the exact problem here. Did she die? No, that couldn't be it. Death would not feel like a sledgehammer on her shoulder. Or this tense, or this unknown. . .

Christie believed in heaven, furthermore in hell and in a god. Even though she was a daughter of a devout Orthadox, she was never someone you could call religious. Especially because her mentality that couldn't let her think properly, she couldn't really give it a thought. Yet death sounded like it had more than black to her. It was eternal silence for sure, however was it just blindness and nothing for eternity? She doubted that. How was bad people supposed to pay? She knew she was childish, yet couldn't care any less.

She felt in between as always, however this was also physical. Though slowly, even though it was slowly, she felt like she was regaining something. She wasn't sure if she wanted that, remembering the last couple of things before regaining internal conciousness. Lili's sudden entrance, the information, the cars, gunshots, all that chase, Steve and the agents. . . For someone who was on Risperdal, that was too much for a day. She was dragged from her head and that would be good—if it just wasn't about fucking Kazama.

Everything, everything was about Kazama. And looking back at what Jin had done so far, the twenty first century was screwed for good. She couldn't hate him any more, she couldn't hate the Zaibatsu any more, G- Corp, the Mishimas. . . All were the same. All of them gave nothing but chaos to people, to the world. She knew that the chaos only fed the corporations even more. The Tekken Force owned everything. And when Christie gave it a thought, especially about the latest events, it seemed that they owned her too.

In a blink of an eye, the thing the was running away from came. Her vision hit her harshly, the lights in the room hurting her eyes a little. She could tell she was at a hospital ward. The room was small and quite square. She could spot a nurse in the corner, one with the darkest black hair and killer green eyes. If she didn't have an outfit on, Christie would think that she was one of the soldiers. However unlike them, she was firm and certain, starting her set of words after a second.

"Stop me if I talk too fast," She walked towards Christie.

She tried to move. She was restrained, of course. It gave her the coldest chills, yet she was calm. It had surprised the nurse, though she was still colder than ice. Her flats echoed in the room as she walked, placing her hand on Christie's wrist firmly as she increased the medicine connected to her.

"Don't you think you have played around enough, dear? After all, the soldiers had a hard time stopping you. You're no easy bait, I'll give you that. But that's no excuse to make _my_ job harder. Sit still." The nurse took out a syringe.

Christie obeyed, knowing that her preferences would only make things worse. Instead, she decided to take the unexpected path towards the nurse. She had to be perfectly calm, even though her anxiety was probably showing.

"What are you injecting me?"

"Severely mutated antibiotics. Have to get the guests in good shape." She muttered under her breath.

"What is the time?"

"Oh, it's been seven hours ever since the 'accident'. If that's what you actually wanted to ask instead of a stupid question."

"What is your name?" Christie tried going casual. This had to get her guards down, she was probably used to people being fearful around her. It was the first rule of master manipulation; denying emotions, the second was casualness. Her mother was a nice example.

When the nurse was actually taken aback, Christie was surprised, yet she was the one who was determined to not change her attitude this time.

"Mari. Why?"

"I don't know." Christie replied with a pint of foolishness, looking at the ceiling. "What is all of this?" She then asked, sensing a little looseness in her voice. "Why am I not dead?"

And suddenly, the truck had crashed.

"Do you know what is amazing about these M- Biotics? They make you the most honest person you can be. That you can ever be." Mari smiled.

"Now, stop trying to get into my head and listen, pole head. You know stuff, I don't know what they are, yet you do. That must be the reason why you were brought so suddenly. Although, you were sent the invitation too, so that was two birds with a single stone. We will transfer you to the medical ward until you are healthy. And I mean, perfectly healthy. Until you are taken out of there, which I think will take a few days; if I see you talking to any familiar faces, their death rate jumps up and you spend a couple of extra hours on the M- Biotics, yes?"

Christie nodded. Her guards were slowly and painfully falling, her actual emotions slowly facing the surface once again, the uncertainness, the insecurity, the fear. . . All came back and in a blink of an eye, Christie was once again what she was afraid of becoming; a space wasting damsel.

"In your state, I wouldn't try anything. You eat your food," Mari took out a second syringe, just when Christie started to feel an intense pain.

"You drink your drinks, you take your medicine and you do as told. Yes?"

"Yes. I promise. Yes."

And one more time, Christie Monteiro was desperate.

"Good night, my dear." She felt a heaviness inside her head, then a kiss. Seconds went further, then the darkness hit her eyes.

" Steve, did you finally copy the papers?" Roger asked, checking his contacts.

"Yes, we have all the info copied and Hwoarang is talking to Julia about some of the fighters. Can you find him?"

"No. . . But this phone, it's just that I swear I have seen it somewhere else. No brand, no usual button, no operating system . . . It's not a normal phone. But I know I have seen it and only one person can validate. Now, try again, the girl. We are a hundred percent sure that this and the pin can lead us to the conclusion that this is their work."

"Yes. And I know that the phone denies all attempted accesses but maybe that was intentional. . . I mean she knew me. Which is another problem all by itself," Steve let out a deep breath, massaging his temples. "Roger, at this point it's only messier. The deeper we dig, the worse it's getting. And I-""

"Oh my god." Steve muttered.

"What?" Roger switched his glance to him.

"Rog, I'm so stupid. How could I? Shit," Steve walked towards him, taking out his laptop. "You can connect to street cams, yes?"

Steve was an idiot. He was a blind moron. How could he just not think of the cameras?

"I can. . . But I will have to walk over to my place to get my USB driver, I need some codes. However yes, it's not like hacking the CIA. . . Again." Roger looked down, then grabbed his car keys from the kitchen counter. "I'll head back tomorrow noon."

"Rog, can't you stay for the night? I need the records, I know it's a lot but—"

"Steve, I have clients. I'm sorry and I wish I could, but I'll be here at lunchtime. Why don't you guys eliminate some fighters with the information you already have? Let's hope that Hwoarang won't throw another mug at the wall. Notify me in case of an emergency," Roger added, then left the apartment.

Steve sighed, Roger was still the same old Roger, escaping from sacrifices to avoid emotional ties. It wasn't like he could blame him, after all they weren't so different. However, was it nerve wrecking? Of course. Steve poured himself some black tea and found his reading glasses after getting a cardigan. He took out some highlighters and notebooks, then started to separate some of the fighters in categories first.

He liked to be organized, for starters. Unlike Hwoarang, Steve even enjoyed keeping things clean and in shape; which annoyed his friend a lot ever since he had arrived. It wasn't that Steve didn't enjoy him, it was that he didn't enjoy it when things were not how they were supposed to be. He didn't like to leave his comfort zone at times, when it came to his life standarts or even the simplest things. It just made things a lot easier.

So the first two categories were based on biological gender, then their occupation, jobs. Then the age group, then crime rate, then affiliation with the Tekken Force. Or with anyone working for them. He thought about having a whole other category for winners, which he had already marked with a green post- it.

The first fighter his eyes had caught was Miharu. Chinese high schooler, only one tournament of participation. He threw her information into the trash bin. Next was Katarina Alves, who was a portuguese woman who had joined to get information on her father and there were no criminal charges against her, so Steve eliminated her too. Then he heard harsh footsteps coming towards him, speaking before the red head who walked towards him.

"Grab a highlighter and dig in."

Hwoarang grabbed a green highlighter pen and threw it on the wall, causing it to leak some ink. "Fuck that!"

Steve bit his lip, remaining cold blooded unlike his friends who had the impulses of the devil. "Fuck what?"

"We're losing time with all of this, can't you see? I was on the phone with Julia and shit, now more American fighters have it and three fighters were off radar just yesterday, Steve! It's only a matter of time, can't you see?" Hwoarang was about to tore himself apart from all the anger and the worry inside him.

For mere seconds, Steve remained still. "Was that all she said? Did she give you more names?" His head went back on the papers, ignoring the neon green ink on the wall whicj did drive him crazy somewhere in his mind.

"How are you even calm right now you bast—" Hwoarang was about to snap, however Steve was quicker.

"You have the names or not, Hwoarang. And believe me, I am not calm. I am simply not an impulsive idiot."

Hwoarang breathed in angrily, his muscles tense. "I do have the names. It's Lili Rochefort, Stefan Queen and Christie Monteiro."

Steve dug in the female category, finding Lili first. "Here, tape this next to the others. And for christ's sake, put a rag on that ink. Who was the second girl again?"

"Christie Monteiro."

Steve then paused as he was going back to the letter 'C' completely ignoring Hwoarang's rants as he went on and on and on about being a father, Julia and how tired he was.

"Oh lord, no. No, no. . ." Steve muttered, making Hwoarang stop for a second.

"What?"

"It's her. It's the girl I told you about. The car. The pin. The phone thing- _The Notebook_."

"What? So she was with you hours ago?"

Steve grabbed his jacket and started to walk towards the door, without an explanation but only with one sentence; leaving his friend confused. "It was her."

 **hello! thank you so much for reading and for the reviews, i have been feeling really stressed these months and i really appreciate it. anyway, i take all kinds of criticism and i hope this isn't going too fast or too slow? i don't know, but if you are enjoying it i'm really glad that you are and please let me know! love, juillet.**


	5. Doors Wide Open

It was the most hollow twilight Steve Fox has ever witnessed, the clouds dancing around the sky, the fog in front of him, the wind breezing as if it was running away from something and the sky was black with a pinch of lilac and heavily with the darkest black, the clouds adding a greyish sight. Even though the full moon was something he could think to admire, Steve ran as fast as he could to leave his moment of enlightenment and actually do something. Steve ran with the wind, his feet taking him to the beginning—That he knew of. He wasn't going to blame himself about not remembering, he wasn't that much of a naïve emotional man. However, would it be better if he could think faster? Why not. His steps took him in front the diner bar, the familiar place looking only looking like the beginning for a second. After that precise second, he didn't even know where he could start. What would he do after stepping in, after stepping out? Would the questions be still as foggy?

His instincts said yes, hardly tolerating the unknown.

There were people, though not more than usual. Just a black haired young man sitting on one of the stools, two waitresses and a few teens. He quickly made his way inside the kitchen, walking past the chef greeting him, straight to the break room that smelled like coffee and tobacco. Will was nowhere to be found and oppositely, Cindy stood in the middle of the room; looking for something. She was surprised to see Steve this late, however she was quick to react. "Steve, this late? Is everything okay?" She asked with the look of worry in her eyes.

However, Steve was too focused for chit chat.

"Cindy, do you remember the time when you had called me at four in the morning and wanted a favour? Of course, it's no big deal, yet I had to move across the city that early and pick a man I didn't know up from a house I didn't know. And do you know why I don't know both, still?"

Cindy sighed, knowing what was next, in defeat. "No questions asked."

She then brought her hands on her hips like a mother who was getting ready to scold her child. "What is it?"

"You make deliveries to houses, yes or no?"

Cindy was unsurprisingly confused. "We do. . ."

"The girl who comes here," Steve started, remembering what he saw that day. He remembered a lilac dress, wandering brown eyes, the notebook, the way she held her ballpoint pen, coffee, long fingers wrapped around the cup and a faint gaze that could maybe tell a lot if he would take a look. "Have you ever delivered to her house? Brunette? Notebook?"

"Yes, I remember Will talking about it."

"I need the address."

"What?" Cindy's eyes grew wide. "Steve, what the fuck?"

"No questions asked, Cindy. I need the fucking address."

"What are you going to do with it?" Cindy asked, fearfully for a second or two. She didn't give up her attitude, though.

"I know her."

"You know her?"

"That's all I'm going to say. Give me the address." Steve demanded, knowing that he was being terribly mean to his friend but he was too tired to behave. He needed it, and he needed it now. It was already too late and he was anxious and everything felt like collapsing. As if he was a part of chain that was about to do great harm and he wanted to break it.

Leaving Cindy with no choice, he grabbed the small piece of paper she gave him.

"I hope you're eyes are open, Steve." Cindy simply said, then went back to playing with her Zippo.

"Wide open." Steve muttered, then left the diner without further words.

If Steve looked back, he wouldn't have guessed that he would be figuring out ways to break down a door. Getting into the apartment was easy, however the first credit card attempt had failed. Sighing, Steve thought about punching his way in, however that would attract attention and he didn't want anyone kicking him out. The door was wooden, although the locks were steel. He was glad that it was at least safe. . . But it didn't work out well anyways. . . .

 **"Who are you?"**

He looked back with eyes filled with worry, slightly relieved seeing a girl. The girl was between twelve and fourteen obviously, he didn't want to scare her off. So he was rather collected and polite. "I'm Steve, who are you?"

God, he was tired. Even when he actually tried to be polite, he sounded like a crappy superhero lead actor.

"I'm Debbie. The daughter of the building manager. That's not your apartment." The strawberry blonde pointed out what they both knew arrogantly. "Tell me the name of the person who lives in there and your relation to them. Or I am calling the police."

Steve was impressed with the girls sharp side, knowing that she was definitely much more mature than anyone her age. And smarter, perhaps. "I'm looking for Christie. I'm his boyfriend." But Steve was definitely the better liar.

Debbie looked unconvinced for a second, raising her brows as high as she could. Steve was alert for seconds, however was relieved when Debbie finally decided to reply.

"Huh. I didn't know she had a boyfriend. But we didn't talk so often. . . And what brings you here, I assume?"

Steve mentally smiled. The tween still had a long way to go.

"She is out of town because of an emergency and asked me to grab a few things for her." Steve _was_ an impulsive liar. "So, I would really appreciate it if you had a spare key," He added, with a charming smile.

Debbie thought for a second. "I think mother does. Could you please hold on?" She ran.

"Thank you, Debbie." Steve said under his breath and closed the door behind him before she could reply. He didn't think she was annoying, but she was just too curious and he had no time for that. Not to mention the raised brows and the smell of cheap bubblegum. He locked the door behind him and took a look around the medium sized apartment. The walls were a light green colour, almost like the shade of his green tea –the way he liked it- but much more lifeful. There was the kitchen a few steps away from the entrance, then three other rooms.

He first decided to look around the kitchen. He took out the gloves he had slipped into his pocket right before leaving, then walked towards the kitchen. As he opened some of the drawers, he could only find some essentials. Tape, knives, kitchen scissors, forks, spoons. . . The closets weren't much different, plates and all. The only thing he could find in the drawers was a phone book, so he placed that on the kitchen table. The next room he stepped in was completely blank, then his caught a full glance at the room. The final rays of the moon enlightened the wooden floor and some reflected from the mirrors on the walls. All of the walls were covered by mirrors, he leaned on the floor and took out his glove to feel it. Oak. This was a specific room for training. He could recall that she did capoiera. Dancers usually used Oak for their practice halls, and capoiera wasn't so far from it. Deadlier? For sure. There wasn't anything else in the room except for a few fighting supplies, so he left.

He then walked into the bedroom. There was a bed, nightstands, lamps, a closet and a balcony. It reeked of cigarettes and since he also was a smoker from time to time, he could tell that she was here just yesterday. That wasn't how your stuff smelled after days. He first checked the balcony, finding nothing but a filled ashtray. Then he checked the closet, there was the lilac dress! He ran his hand on it, it was soft. Cotton- Velvet. Then he leaned down to get a better sight of the boxes down there, there were two. The first he opened, there was a cell phone, a few pens, pencils, erasers, a laptop and an iPod. Steve almost lost himself at how disorganised she was. And the second box was filled with notebooks, just like the one he saw with her that day! They were almost all same except for the colours, he didn't have the exact time to read but he still grabbed one that was green.

 _Grandpa died._ It began. _Eddy wasn't there when he passed, but I was. He came after the funeral, I was mourning. He stayed for five minutes and then without any sign of emotion, he left. Maybe I should too._

Steve closed the notebook, feeling a little gloomy. He knew that these were private, he also knew that he had to look at them for clues though. However he would do that later, the lesser was the better. He took out both boxes and then moved to the nightstand with the drawer. There wasn't much except for cigarettes, which he shamelessly lit. It had been a while ever since he had smoken. While he was using the ashtray, his eyes caught a black piece of paper. He placed his cigarette down quickly and ran back into the bedroom, taking the paper on the other nightstand. He read carefully, word by word with a rush of adrenaline in his veins. Yet, he was right to suspect; it was Christie's letter.

He bit his lip, then checked under the bed. There, he couldn't find anything but a pistol. He shrugged, thinking of his own gun at his place. After all, he was mildly known—Not to mention the mafia. He owned three guns though, you could never know. He then walked into the bathroom, not wanting to invade privacy, but had to. Hell, he was already in. The only stuff he could think wasn't really usual were the medicine he found in the cabinet.

He then checked the time from his wristwatch, it was almost five in the morning. He had to leave now. So he took a huge sports bag from her closet and placed the two boxes, cigarettes, meds, the letter, the notebooks and the phone book in. He placed the spare key in his pocket. After a final glance, he left.

"Oh my _fucking_ -, did you _rob_ a house Fox?"


	6. Sunset

Christie woke up with extreme pain all around her body, a pain so different from all those other times. It struck her so terribly, it would make a sadist feel warm. It was her head, her muscles, her neck and her arms, it was killing. In fact, having near death experiences a lot in her lifetime, it was worse. Everything was blurry and her head spun, and she could feel some stitches on her lower abdomen too. Like it wasn't enough, the nausea was back. Thankfully a few moments later she remembered, _survival_ before all. She pushed herself against the wall and got some support from it, silently thanking god that her legs were the only part of her that felt better. She kept giving her weight to the cement, hoping that the blurriness would go away by itself as she took deep breaths. And quite luckily, it did after a while. Which was when she took an actual look around her.

There were people in this room. As a matter of fact, thirty people. And she knew most of them like how they knew her. Before she could even make a gesture, a young girl came into the view. "Shit." Christie muttered.

"Chrissy!"

"Ling, it's not the time." Christie managed to dodge the hug and succeded, then asked victoriously yet exhausted. "Just tell me what the fuck is going on."

Xiaoyu pouted, but spoke firmly. "We were all unconcious when brought here, I think they were just waiting for everyone to wake up."

"What did they do?"

"They examined everyone for phase two."

Christie felt her blood freezing. "Phase two?"

"It means you passed one, silly." Xiaoyu started. "There used to be fifty of us."

"Wait—Let's just connect this using all the strings."

"O-Kay. . ." Ling nodded, confused.

"They kidnap fighters."

"Uh-huh."

"For experiments."

"Uh-huh."

"Which are seperated into phases."

"Uh- huh."

"On what purpose?"

"I'll tell you," A familiar voice started. "To launch more missiles at churches!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Christie almost yelled, feeling the pain on her abdomen again.

"Hello Monteiro. Long time no see, no?" Miguel smirked. "Rough day?"

"Not rougher than yours. Now, will you kindly explain whatever the fuck is happening without sounding like a child?

"I think pigtails did that well. Now, listen, remember when we kicked asses during the lockdown?"

"Um, yes?"

"You. Me. Zafina and or no?"

"Jesus, alliances again? Yeah, fine whatever. Just give me a tour will you?" She sighed.

"With pleasure." Miguel smirked again forcefully, then took one of Christie's arms to support her. "Do you see them? That's the alliance Xiaoyu is in. They have Shaheen, Bob and this other girl called Ruby."

Christie saw the other three talking silently, obviously plotting. "They annoy me but who cares. Those three are Dragunov, Bryan and Katarina. . ." Miguel kept counting the names and reasons why he hated people with a lot of particular swears, making Christie smirk, she sort of missed Miguel. Sure he wasn't all good, yet not all bad. Still, she had to change the subject.

"Look, I know that they make experiments on us, but why us? Didn't any moron in here think of that?" She snapped.

"We don't fucking know Monteiro! They keep them really secret, last week they took five and we don't even know how that went and I don't think it was well. Katarina says that she heard screaming. Not your usual screaming, just something. . . Inhuman."

"But—"

"Attention!"

Everyone stopped talking, even moving.

"If you have a cross on your left side, go to the right side of the room. If you have a cross on your right side, go to the left side of the room." The voice was calm yet ordering. It reminded her of her father, almost. Calm, yet that made it colder. Tenser to hear. Christie looked at Miguel. It was on his left, then herself. Thankfully, also left. Making friends was hard, eh? They both walked to the right side, as she viewed the familiar faces. Xiaoyu went to the left, Bryan went left, Dragunov went right, Kat also right, Law left –shit-, Zafina right, Bob and Shaheen left, Ruby also left. . . Bryce right.

The rest was mystery, perhaps from the tournaments she missed. However she didn't really care much about it, knowing that she probably should have. Everyone was waiting for the voice anxiously, even Dragunov, that bastard. Christie hated him to guts, he almost killed her once during the lockdown. Attacking when she was electrocuted and weak, trying to use her as a bait to get to others. He even tried to shoot her on the head, but thanfully the bullet had only scraped her head; which actually was way more painful than well, dying.

Bryan was smiling. Fucking sadist, Christie thought, rolling her eyes.

"Thank you. Now, the doctors will come in and give you numbers. Afterwards, follow them and do as told." The second the announcement was over, men in white lab coats came in with stone like faces and started to give out numbers. Miguel got 5.

"Ironic. That used to be a lucky number."

The man saw her suddenly, then whispered something to his colleague with the strangest state of eyes she has ever seen. Then passed her her number, with less confidence compared to the way he was with Miguel. Her number was zero.

"Hang that around your neck, will you?" He muttered, then skipped to Katarina Alves who stood right next to her with an annoyed look on her face aimed at Xiaoyu, who kept talking nonsense.

"How long are we going to stand here? I need to lie down. . ." Christie complained.

"Stop the crying. It's almost over and you won't lie down until the end of the day. New people means new alliances. We have to make sure we get good ones."

"Why? Isn't it everyone versus them?"

Miguel looked angry already, damn, Christie forgot about how easily Miguel could go off. And that was literally his defining thing, she mentally slammed herself in the head.

"If you're not, let's just say, what they are looking for; they don't let you go. They keep you for less –I guess- not as important experiments, Or they use you as a mission bait, or directly kill you. Or they just throw you back in here. Don't you remember how the lockdown was? This is basically a prison! Whatever happens, there's a chance that you'll still be here with those psychopaths! Bryan and Drac were fighting the other day and when Bob tried to stop the fight Drac tried to kill Xiaoyu. This is how close we are to chaos, you never know what people do until a crisis."

"Follow me."

The bald man led them out of the huge hall and the 11 people started to actually walk down the facility. Christie looked around curiously while clinging on Miguel, her eyes wide open. She spotted dozens of soldiers, running right after their commander. There were doctors mostly though and the people in black were agents. Well, except for the janitor at the corner. She spotted a lot of medicine carried in carts by nurses, and they didn't look like Tylenol. Some of the soldiers were extremely armed too, one of them carried a gun taller than her leg. The hall they walked through was a circular room, all black and made out of titanium, obviously. She could tell by the way it gleamed under the light. On some of the walls there were mirrors—one sided mirrors. She knew that the moment she saw them. Because one, her father had an escape room hidden behind a mirror and two, who needs a mirror in here?

"The soldiers—Do they ever come?" She found herself asking while looking at the way the simply were, robotic.

"They did a few times. For Bryan, Drac, when a group tried to start a rebellion and when some girl was brought here."

"So they don't unless there is something threathening, am I right?"

"I suppose. But the girl thing doesn't really explain that."

"What was her name?"

" _Sunset."_ Miguel said casually, giving her arm a light squeeze. And then she remembered the advice he had from this other Korean fighter during the lockdown, codes. _Sunset_ was 'not now'.

"Sometimes they send in the rookies when it's not so bad. For training purposes I guess, they do check ups."

"Since when were you here, Miguel?"

"A while. Look, I know that the information you have is limited, confusing but I can't do any fucking thing. So wait 'til we get to wherever we're going and I'll fill you in on everything from zero."

She nodded, keeping to watch her surroundings, looking at the blonde who was looking at her. None of them broke eye contact, hers being analyzing and Christie's being suspicious. The woman had her platinum hair in a loose bun and was holding a box full of files. She was a doctor with thin glasses and the bluest eyes Christie had ever seen. To Christie's surprise, the woman smiled at her, making her uneasy. And then she kept walking, leaving Christie looking behind.

The man went left and used his ID card to open a gate, which was actually the _first_ gate of some place. Her father had always said, _don't look. See._ Christie was never one to use glasses and she could clearly see, the ID card said C1. The doctor, as if he could read her head, plainly spoke. "Just walk." They did without hesitation, only that sociopath Dragunov still smiling. Bingo. Then came to the second gate. He used his card again, C2. When the second gate opened, she spotted two things; there were nine nurses and three soldiers. And there were three other gates in the room they just walked in. The one front of them, with the biggest door, was probably _the_ third gate. The other two were just small doors.

"You have twenty minutes," The doctor ordered, and the nurses started to drag them towards the doors. Men to left, women to right. Christie didn't fight when she saw Mari. She remembered something she said while she was drifting to sleep: "Obey, and maybe you won't end bad." She could give them the illusion, that would be handy. So instead of making a scene like Bryce whom she could hear from there, she sighed: "You're assigned to me aren't you?"

"It's more like the opposite, dear. Looks like the M- Biotics tamed you a little, didn't they?" Mari smirked. Christie didn't say anything but asked, "What happened to my abdomen?"

"The accident." Mari insisted.

"No, the scar from the accident was on the right side—"

"I'm not a doctor, Zero. And I would appreciate it if you could be a little more quiet." Mari took out an ID card and scanned it, then they both went inside another room. So far, this facility was a lot of things and complex was one of them. The room was completely gray and it had nothing, which confused her.

"Take off your clothes, Zero." Mari ordered, sighing.

Christie was taken aback.

She reached for her shirt when a pain hit her again. "Uh. . . Could you?"

After searching her, Mari pinched the wound a little. Christie winced mentally, she wouldn't give her the joy.

"Good. Get dressed, I'll lead you to the showers."

She didn't question it and dressed as quickly as possible. They then left the room, allowing some other girl and nurse in. Mari lightly pushed her straight ahead and told her to be quick yet careful with the wounds. Would she have the time to speak to the other girls? About more details about this place or how they were in here. . . Did they possibly know what the doctors were doing at the moment? She undressed and placed her clothes on the hangers, then got in and bit her lip when she felt hot water burning all the wounds, bruises and scratches all over her body. The last time she showered was at her home and if someone would ever told her that she'd be back with the fucking Zaibatsu, she would beat the crap out of them. And yet there she was, grateful with the hotwater she currently had. She placed both her arms in front of her breasts slowly, almost feeling as if that would secure her. Well it still gave some warmth and a pint of safety. She did have herself and that was enough for now. All she needed was the right people and good intel. And she could get them.

After she went out of the shower, she finally saw some other girls; however they were all wearing a new outfit, all the same. A brunette saw her walking and shouted, "Think fast!" Christie catched the small bag she threw without an effort, making the brunette smirk. "You're late, Monteiro. They gave us new outfits. Get ready,"

"One, who the fuck are you and two, why did you wait for me?"

"Katarina Alves. And two, for someone who looks like crap even after a hot shower, you seem way too excited to be alone. I'll wait."

"Touching." Christie unzipped the bag and looked at the new outfits. It was white, the material was cotton and polyester, the t- shirt was long sleeved and the bottom was simply sweatpants. There were also shoes, flatter than the floor and plastic. She got ready as quick as possible, then went next to Katarina.

"Thanks, I guess." She muttered quickly. "But why?"

Katarina rolled her eyes and then replied bitterly. "I heard about how you were brought and I can see it. I'm not a fucking monster, I don't know about what you have heard from your friend Miguel though."

"Nothing specific."

"I don't remember asking you, let's go." They started to walk, Christie following her shyly.

"Have you ever been here before?" Christie asked.

"No."

"Do you know what will happen?"

"No."

"Well, what do you know?"

"No—What?" Katarina furrowed her brows.

"Anything. I know very limited, just please give me something. From zero."

Katarina sighed and started to wait next to the other girls, looking Christie directly in the eye.

"Here's the thing, I tell you and we stop talking."

"Works for me." Christie nodded.

"Remember the medical precidures we used to go through after being accepted into the tournament?"

Christie nodded once again, eager for the next words.

"They had our blood, all kinds of scans, allergies, illneses, psychiatric histories, from your preschool lice to your fighting injuries; they have our full medical history. Everything you can imagine, the bone you broke when you were ten, all the medication you had ever taken, how much you weighed when you were born. . . Everything. They know everything." She looked around.

"And after the lockdown, everyone dissappeared to their own ways and all the tournaments stopped broadcasting. But the Mishima Zaibatsu needed new sources to make money. So they started to step into new industries. Food, technology, communication, banking, pharmacy. . . And a lot more. And their stocks in the black market keeps growing bigger and bigger. Do you know what this means?"

"Pharmacy, technology and the black market all in the hands of the company that started the war? I can only imagine."

"And what do you think we are here?"

"What better and easier than people that are already exposed to you?" Christie muttered, finally understanding, yet also still feeling like the puzzle was incomplete. "And what when they get whatever they want?"

"No one knows. Yet—" Katarina stopped. "But I know one more thing, not everyone received a letter."

"Do you know anyone?"

"Paul Phoenix, for example. There are more."

"But he and Law were like family, how come he doesn't do anything?"

"When they take someone, they leave something behind. No one is that stupid, especially a billion dollar corporation that basically runs the world. So I don't think that idiot Paul will come for him. Or in this case, anyone for any of us."

"But then, what makes us so special that—" Christie wanted to ask again the only question that bugged her but. . .

"Hey. The deal was that I told you all that I knew and I did. Your turn." Katarina almost hissed, turning her head to the nurse who had entered the room.

"You will now be medically examined for one last time by five doctors, your given numbers will also be how you will take turns. Then you will be lead to your common room for girls only, where you will eat and sleep and spend most of your time. Now, a few rules. One, I know you are all fighters but from this line, any physical fights between anyone will not be tolerated. Two, no sexual activities unless you want to spend time in the red room. Three, you will take your pills the doctors give you. We'll know. Four, YOUR pills. And five, the doctors will give you wrist watches. Never, ever take them off. You will be tracked with them. If any of these rules are crossed, you will either be taken to the red room or become something red yourself. Questions?"

Christie always hated being first. She hated it when the teacher wanted to introduce herself before everyone in third grade, she hated when her mother made her talk to the guests before her brother, she hated it when she had the first fight of the tournament and she certainly hated being the first person the creepy doctor saw today.

She was mostly staring on the walls during the entire thing, only responding when she was asked. There were several things that she noted in her head though. There were two chips –chips, according to her assumption- one was on her neck and the second was on her shirt, which the doctor kindly activated. When her physical check ups were done, which were not as painful yet disturbing considering she had to remove her clothing all over again; she was supposed to be sent to the final doctor, however Mari had announced that all even numbers would skip for today. So that was. . . Not a relief but something, perhaps.

They were finally led to the common room, which included twelve women in total but the odds were gone at the moment, only to receive fellow numbers on their watches. Christie was never good at math but she knew that she was getting roomies when she saw multiple doors in the common room. Her watch said number four and her eyes immediately scanned the all grey room, only to find the unfamiliar brown eyes. Christie remembered seeing her on the television. And Miguel mentioning her today but never as an opponent, which was something she was thankful about. The Egyptian was a marvelous fighter. They didn't exchange words, just sat beside each other while the nurses brought food. And after that, still not knowing the time, Christie went to bed. She was fast asleep, yet after a few hours she was awakened by Zafina shutting the door loudly. She didn't do anything, only felt Zafina climbing on the top bunk. While rambling around her head to sleep again, Christie thought of something else and rushed to the table in their room. She opened the only drawer in the room and found what she was looking for next to some other things. Picking up the pencil and the small notebook, she started to write the first important thing she has collected today.

 _FIND OUT ABOUT SUNSET (the lost and the hidden, obviously)_


	7. Illumination

Please tell me you didn't rob _a house_."

"I didn't _rob_ a house." Steve started, shaking his head. "I borrowed things we can use for more information."

"What?"

"Don't worry. I told them I was her boyfriend. The security wasn't tight. Well, there was no security. Come on," Steve put on his glasses. "We need to sort these out."

Steve unzipped the sports bag and took out the items quickly, separating documents from items. The gun immediately went in the table drawer near them, it was filled and there was a chance that they'd need it. The cellphone, the notebooks. . . He placed everything on the table and started with the documents. Roger had texted Hwoarang that he would stop by on his way. Steve started to explain his intention while Hwoarang had started to roam around the apartment while asking irrelevant questions furiously.

"Look, we needed evidence. And something made me think before we left, when I saw her photo. And I could just tell that I saw her before and it wasn't the tournament. I saw her, Hwoarang. At my friends diner bar, a week ago. She was scribbling in one of these notebooks and sipping her coffee and now she's gone! These may be evidence and considering the pin and the phone Roger is trying to hack his way into, she knew things. Now, will you help me?"

Hwoarang thought for a second, placing the mug he was about to throw down back on the coffee table.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Oh, so you're not helping?"

"No, I mean yes, but," Hwoarang looked at his eyes. "What about her?"

"I don't understand."

"What _about_ Christie? Let's just say she knows something. And let's just say it's important. After we get the intel, what will happen to Christie? What will we change?"

"I guess. . . I mean. ."

"That phone was something, Steve. Maybe it was a coincidence that you somehow ended up in the same street and I don't know what the phone is yet, but don't you think it was at least a warning?"

"What are you suggesting?"

"Nothing. . But just saying, if we find that she knows things, we know who to play on first."

"We don't even know her. We don't know people. And the people we know wouldn't move their a finger for us. We're not in a position to save someone Hwoarang, we're in a position to be saved!"

"Okay and if she knows, if she does and we don't; what do you think we should do? Wait for them to take us we know too? If we know their strategy, we can get away. But we have been researching for weeks and we have NOTHING! A list of kidnapped fighters did nothing! And do tell me, it is crowded in there."

Steve sighed.

"Look, Steve. I'm only saying it for when we have to make a call. I know that this isn't time to trust anyone. I know. But no one else left a sign."

"And what if it's a fucking dangerous sign? What if all of it was a scheme?"

"Then we punch our way out of it."

Steve smirked while opening a bottle of beer. "I wouldn't be so confident."

"I _would._ " Roger. At least, it used to be Roger, when he didn't have the blackest circles under his eyes, dust on his platinum blonde hair and the worst case of coffee breath.

"Holy hell. Roger, did you do it?"

"I had to use a computer from 1981. But yes, man, I did it!" Roger yelled victoriously. "But we need to go. Any of you have a ride?"

Steve started his 2006 Beetle and in a minute, both men showered Roger with questions as they drove to Roger's storage unit.

"What did you see?"

"It's not what you think. You'll see."

"What exactly is the phone?"

"A lot of things."

"Jesus, how long did it take you?"

"39 hours. I'm okay, thanks for asking."

Steve smirked at Rogers comments, kept pushing. "What exactly did you find?"

"Names. Files. Recordings. Plans. So much shit that tells us about your fighter folks."

"Did you find a whole explanation of what the fuck is happening?" Hwoarang asked impatiently, biting on his lip.

"You'll see in a few, fellas. I didn't take much of a glimpse and I'm not so sure of the ones I took. I'm really tired but don't worry, I printed out everything so if the computer goes bad you'll have that—Which will probably happen,"

"This street?" Steve asked, looking back.

"Yeah, go forward. Depot number 77." Roger answered. When Steve parked his car right next to the depot, Roger took out his key chain, which was almost the size of his fist with all the colour coded keys; there were 25 different shades of green, even. Secrets could be burdening both mentally and physically. Steve knew that Roger was a secretive man from the start, maybe because of the profession or maybe because of his personality but he never bothered to go further the line he had with Roger. Sure they were good friends, but that didn't mean Steve had to dig up everything about him. Ever since they had met, he just hoped for the best while trusting him. And it went good. He didn't need to ruin that too, especially while having secrets of his own.

"Here—Is everything you need. If you need me, I'll be napping at the corner. Wake me up before you leave. Or spend the night here, I really don't care, lock the door though."

It was no surprise that this place looked exactly like Rogers living room, it had his old furniture, twenty monitors and computer parts everywhere. Memory cards, keyboards from who knows when. . . And there were trash everywhere, coke cans, beer cans, food cartons and paper along with _actual_ trash—Computer junk Roger threw away. Steve skipped the furniture and tried his best to avoid the mixed smell of dust, old electronics and food that had gone bad for a while. When they had reached the main monitor, they saw a note Roger had left. Steve started to read while motioning Hwoarang to grab the files that were printed.

 _Steve or Hwoarang, if you are reading this, congrats. I managed to not fall asleep and bring you guys here. Everything you need is on the screen and I have copied them in three separate hard disks. So no worries. Hwoarang, if you are not good with technology; please let Steve have a seat because I am done. Steve knows how to use a computer._

 _Don't call me for a month. I'm out of favours._

 _I mean it. Goodbye. Ps. Leave a six-pack of beer and Advils._

"Classy." Steve smirked, then turned to the monitor screen. It looked quiet heavy and old, he made a note to himself to make the six pack a twelve one. He gripped the mouse and clicked file number one, where Roger noted _'where you start'._ (Thank god Roger was like him when it came to his computers. Steve had zero toleration for any mess, but Roger at least had one for his files.) The file revealed a password. Steve stared at the password screen in awe, recognizing a name.

 _Rochefort Inc. 1979-2011_

 _THE FOLLOWING MEDIA HAS RESCRICTED ACCESS ONLY._

 _PASSWORD:__

Steve saw the paper hanging at the side of the monitor. He took the yellow piece and read carefully.

 _Monaco III_

 _ACCESS GRANTED._

Thus, the screen changed from the blank black to a less blank black. There were loads of documents, research, photos, videos. . . . Steve was taken aback for a second because of how much they were, but he managed to move the mouse around.

 _So,_ he thought. _It's officially official._

The screen then went blank for a moment and then black once again, only to reveal a new menu with four selections only, if you didn't count log off. The first was called _documents_ , below that was _media_ , followed by _search_ and finally, there was something called _recruitment_. Steve clicked that first, wondering what it would be about. There was a minute long load screen, which meant the screen went completely green for a whole minute, and just when Steve was about to press reset, he thanked himself for being patient for one more second when the green screen was gone and instead, was replaced with photographs. Of her, walking down the street, grocery shopping, smoking under the roof of a library to avoid the rain, in a telephone booth, leaving a foreign house with her hair wet, talking to Debbie as she helped her tie her hair, having a meal at the diner. . .

"Lord," Steve muttered, when he saw that Cindy was in the background. With his experience with the Mishima Zaibatsu, he could tell that Christie didn't knock the Rochefort door. They tagged her first, obviously. All of these were a long time of stalking, he could see all four seasons. He scrolled down to see if all there was were photos and of course, it wasn't, because simply why would it be?

He scanned the new page quickly, immediately knowing that he was reading a report and that he was definitely not supposed to read, or even find the report. Nevertheless, he kept reading.

Full Name: Christie Monteiro

Nationality: Brazilian.

Born In: Sao Paulo, Brazil

Age: 23

Date of Birth: July 10th, 1988

Religion: Christian (Raised catholic.)

Education: Community College, then majored in psychology in an online University, only to drop out later.

Eye colour: Brown.

Hair colour: dark Brown

Occupation: Freelance Translator

Marital status: single

Criminal record: 4 assault charges, found guilty in one. All were either bar or street fights.

Height: 1,68 meters.

Weight: 54 kilograms, as in May 2011.

Allergies: None.

Chronical Illnesses: None.

Blood type: B+

Medical history: Born prematurely, was in intensive care for two months. A chair fell on her left arm when she was two, breaking her arm in two. She had chickenpox when she was seven. Fell from a roof when she was eight, breaking her right leg, cracking her neck and fracturing two of her ribs. The scar should be there, I saw it while she took a shower.

Steve sighed, then kept reading.

-When she was thirteen, she had an appendix surgery. She was sent to a psychiatrist by her aunt when her mother was sent to the ER because of her fathers abusive behavior. The psychiatrist was called Gloria Nerada and her diagnosis was insomnia and anxiety. Soon she was prescribed Xanax and Lustral, while also being on heavy pain killers since thirteen was the age she started to learn capoiera from her grandpa. Her left leg broke when she was fourteen, this time because of a fighting accident. By then her insomnia was cured. She has an implant in her left leg, for it was too harmed. After the house fire, her lungs were affected for she was in too long, so she has fairly sensitive lungs and had to breathe through an oxygen tank for a month before making a full recovery. At the age sixteen after the loss of her mother, she was sent to a psychiatric hospital by her father. There, she was diagnosed with Derealization /Depersonalization disorder and generalized anxiety, prescribed Risperdal and Lustral, with Klonopin. When she hit 18, Eddie Gordo had taken her out and helped her complete her capoiera training, with lots of Tylenol, bruises and muscle trouble; she ended up as a good fighter and joined her first tournament later on.

Due to all of this information and more that I handed in paper, I am proud to say that I have everything on the target; aka the new missionaire by the order of Miss Lili Rochefort. The missionaire is set to protect the files in the device, while also figuring out the whereabouts of Asuka Kazama. The missionaire will find Anna Williams and trade the memory card I hid in her apartment, with an opportunity. After given the signal, Williams will alert one of her agents she had planted in the Zaibatsu and leak the information to Miss Monteiro. While offering this to Miss Rochefort, I could not help but ask why. Why wouldn't she use a normal agent? Why did she want recruit someone new? She simply said.

"Who do you trust?"

 _Report by agent D. T Bersing, for further questions please mail:_ _darlenetbersing_

"Williams," Steve muttered. "Another _fucking_ Williams."

"What about her?"

"It's not her. Well. Her. And Nina. Wait!" He opened his eyes in shock and stopped for a minute, while Hwoarang waited for a reaction and Roger kept snoring.

"Hwoarang—Did you get everything?"

"Yes?"

Steve walked to Roger quickly, shaking him hysterically. "Roger. Roger!"

"There's a FUCKING note!" Roger yelled, jumping.

"No, no. You copied this into a hard disk, right?"

"Yes."

"Can Dublin read hard disks?"

"Of course."

"Good. I want to borrow it."

"You want Dublin?"

"Yes. I need it. We both need an expansion right now. You're out of this."

"Fine, whatever." Roger reached to a nearby drawer and first unlocked it, then opened it quickly to go back to his slumber as soon as possible. Hwoarang looked in awe when he saw what it contained, it was a drawer full of smart phones. Roger picked out a certain blue one and handed it to Steve.

"You have the equipment for Dublin for, you know, I lived there a few years ago. So just start the phone and go with it, it'll start. And remember that Dublin isn't a toy, alright? Don't use it when you don't need it."

"I know. Good night." Steve walked away as Hwoarang followed him.

"What the fuck is Dublin and shit—That's a lot of phones."

"Dublin is a computer."

"A computer?"

"Well, a smart computer who also has Artificial Intelligence."

"No! No more robots! The last one lasered my brows off!"

"This is just a voice and one of the best data bases you can ever see. I've used it before, it's fine. Look, we won't use it when we don't need it, which is the rule. You can't always use Dublin anyway, it reveals a signal. It can easily be tracked down because it can get anywhere, so we can't have it on for more than three hours a day."

" _And_ illegal? I came to avoid being imprisonated, Fox. A fighter, an asian, has a criminal record, are you trying to kill me?"

"Calm the fuck down. We need to get home."

"Just what is the matter now? We have the info." Hwoarang pointed out, exhausted, as he got in Steve's Beetle.

"Do you know a Williams?"

"I only heard of them. You mean the sisters, right?"

"Yes. So supposedly, Christie was supposed to give the phone to Anna. Who works for G-Corp. Lili, yes, now Lily bloody Rochefort is in this; had Christie stalked, but these are information both from the Zaibatsu and the agent who was assigned to Christie. Okay, one more time." Steve sighed. "Asuka Kazama probably received a letter and then got missing and then Lili wanted to find her. She wanted help. She wanted someone to do it. She had the money, the resources. And she also wanted the information, she wanted to know what they were up to. And of course their nemesis would know! But she had to find someone who she could trust. Someone who wouldn't stab her in the back the moment they realized that this thing was bigger than it looked. Someone who would stand. Someone she knew. A fighter who could easily infiltrate. And she picked the girl she knew from her lockdown team. The one who saved her life once And Christie was supposed to give this to Anna and then she would give her the whole thing. That was the plan!"

"Holy fuck. I. . . I need a drink. This is shit."

Steve ignored his friend as he drove home with enthusiasm but also with tension. "But then she got caught. And she knew she was fucked and then she saw me and knew that it was me and before they could arrive, handed it to me."

"This is shit. This is some telenovela shit. Fuck. What do we do now? We find Anna?"

Steve mentally puked with the idea of encountering with a Williams again, and the fact that this 36 year old woman was his _aunt._ Then he spoke after mentally sighing.

"I. . . We'll need a plan. And we'll need good one. So I'll tell you what to do: We go home and sleep our arses off. And tomorrow with clear minds, we calculate and think this through every perspective. Then we set our priorities. We check more files. And we make a plan. But we need to rest now."

And they did. Steve took a few sleeping pills while Hwoarang kept it classier with some green tea. They had scrambled eggs, fried tomatoes and buttered buns for breakfast with some coffee. Steve took a shower. Hwoarang called Julia for some updates and spoke to his son. He smiled when his son talked about how he had killed a mosquito and saved her mothers life. _I'm proud of you_ , he said. _I miss you_ , Isang said. Hwoarang sighed, _I know._ Steve did some cleaning, for he couldn't concentrate with all that mess. He did hate dirt and he knew that he could get a little obsessive at times. It didn't really bug him since it was distracting. Hwoarang organised some files. It was two o'clock when they were functioning again, staring at the papers in front of them. Steve plugged in the scanner he had in his study. After they scanned the files once again, this time checking out other menus too, they were both baffled with the same question.

"What now?" Hwoarang asked.

Steve stopped for a second, turning around to stare outside the window as he took the final sip from his coffee. He considerin possibilities, he considered all the things that could go wrong, he considered the wounds he could get, he considered the blood that was going to stain the floor no matter what and he considered the things he had to lose.

"We won't figure out their plan. Not like this. We can't. We're only wasting time."

Now, that list was blank.

"We're going to find Anna. We'll give her the phone. We'll learn what we're facing with. And then we change plans again."

"Can't we just tell Roger to hack his way in? Again?"

"So he'll get arrested? Do you not understand how dangerous that was? Is? That's not happening again. Roger will be out of this from now on,"

"And what about Anna? It'll be like killing a snake, only to see that it grows two heads. You'll think you killed a snake by cooperating but Anna is another snake, like all the corporations that rule the world. And, jesus,- How the fuck are we supposed to trust Lili?"

"Hwoarang, the girl has millions. A company. An oil empire. Agents of her own. And a deal with Anna! Do you have a better idea? Because I would fucking love to hear it!" He couldn't help but yell, facing with his frustration.

Hwoarang released a deep breath, then pulled Steve from his shirt to face him.

"Just because you don't have a penny to gamble, doesn't mean you can have mine. Do you understand?"

Steve smirked, pushing him way. "Perfectly. So, Anna it is?"

The red head kicked a box.

"Yes, you piece of shit."


	8. One Last Time

Christie poked Zafina's arm, as she did every other day now. She opened her eyes, with full knowledge that she would stare at the ceiling for a while. She would always be late for breakfast and it was a hundred percent because of the people, even though she kept her relationships bitter but nice. She had to, sort of. It's been a few weeks only and the girls' Counter (That's what the nurses called it.) was. . . An interesting ride.

Every day during week days for breakfast, there was a piece of bread, instant coffee or tea, oatmeal and some peanut butter for the bread. Lunches were mostly protein based, they had boiled meat, boiled potatoes, some soup. Then there was the pill hour just before tea time. The pill hour was something. See, everyone had a separate nurse assigned to them. Mari would come to Christie, do a quick check- up and also get two tubes of blood each day. ("We have to keep the flesh fresh, don't we?") Then came the pills. Christie had to take six of them, the red, blue, green, another red, one yellow and a darker blue. It didn't escape her sight that there were only two other girls in her Counter who took the same amount, but not with the exact colours of course. Zafina and some girl she didn't quite know. She was quiet ever since their first day and only replied when asked. When Christie tried to ask Mari about the pills, the only answer she had was that this was the new phase and that it would decide who got to be on the next phase. Christie sort of figured that different metabolisms called for different doses, and was able to took the shortest glance in the history of quick peeks at Mari's file so she knew that the pills were there to prepare the bodies for the 'Scalytte'. Truthfully, that was the best glance in the history of glances because that gave her more chance to research.

Last night before bed as she passed Zafina a green apple she found on her own bed (?) as both a bribe and a hand, then tried to sell some of the information. She was nervous that it would be wasteful, but Zafina was here longer and Christie knew she could look around better than her. She was just the type you would give out what you got, she had the face. Even without the horrendous eyeshadow. Turns out Zafina didn't only know about the Scalytte, she also believed that it was an ancient metaphysical element. When Christie asked why, after almost turning the lights off, she said that it was more than metaphysical. In Egypt, the rumour was that after the big bang and hydrogene, there was a flaw. A coincidental atom fed by the unnecessary heat, hydrogene, iron, lithium, axinth, brevellin, luft and qerex. When Christie asked what the last four were, Zafina had simply said: "It's what makes the Divines. There were four and each represents a Divine with different specialties. Those elements were there once. You can't ever find them on this earth, at least, seperately. But the rumour is something else." After that, she had slept.

So now, Christie had _Scalytte_ and _the Divines_ in her notes. She hid her notebook under the bed.

Another day. At least she knew that it was mid September. A line for each day was smart, but the track was gone. She sat down next to Katarina and poured the milk in her oatmeal. Katarina was chatting with the chubby blonde beside the table, joking around about the medication. It was nice that dark humour was _always_ an option. And Katarina looked like she enjoyed this place whenever she didn't yell around. So she was an odd one, definitely. But it wasn't that Christie cared, Katarina's bad attitude kept the Counter calm. Nobody ever tried to make a scene because of her. No fights. Nothing that would break the Counter. She just had a crown and she seemed to do the right thing for now. Not bad nor good, just right. All three were different things.

"Do you mind if I can have your peanut butter?"

Christie left her zone. "Hm?"

Katarina repeated. "Peanut butter, may I?"

"Oh, go ahead. I'm not in the mood anyway."

"You know, this is why I love this girl. Just always has good timing. Unlike you, Ari."

"What do we have today?"

Katarina thought for a second. "Shit. The psychiatrics."

"Again?"

"This is probably more detailed. The seconds always are. . ."

After the 'no talking' promise of them, Christie and Katarina weren't stupid enough to realize that they were in a cage loaded with clueless women. And the fact that they were from the same place made it easier to exchange words at times, Portugese wasn't an expertise everyone had after all.

"I have a bad feeling about this."

"What do you mean?"

"We've been here for weeks, Katarina."

"And?"

"Phase one took a few weeks, didn't it?"

"Shit."

"It has to be Phase Three. Some girls in the shower said that they had their second psychiatric before the second phase. Just think of how the nurses were yesterday!" Christie reminded.

"But they didn't even. . ."

"We're being prepared. Don't tell me you didn't see that."

"What if it's only a drug trial?"

Christie looked around carefully. "It's not. Just trust me."

Katarina bit her lip impatiently, playing with the peanut butter as she bounced her leg. "What about the ones who don't make it?" She whispered. "Or the ones who do?" She then added. "What about the other phases, the 'grand' master plan?"

"Katarina, calm down please. Control yourself."

"We need to do something. You and I are the only brains here, you know?"

"I may have a lead."

Katarina furrowed her brows. "What lead?"

"It may not be a 'lead' lead. But there's a start."

"Which is?"

"I think we're being prepared for a new chemical. I asked Zaf about it and she rambled some bullshit tale but I think the new chemical is the third phase."

"Well, what's it called?"

"Scalytte."

Katarina looked down for a second, processing the information. Meanwhile, giggles of Xiaoyu were getting nearer and nearer while Christie's eyes were almost up to her brain. Lord, the girl was annoying. Christie shoved a spoonful of oatmeal in her mouth while Katarina obviously plotted something. She had started to scribble on a napkin, Christie chose to wait.

"I'll try my chance with a guard. Yes. That should work. The guard in front of the Counter has been undressing me with his eyes already."

"You don't have to."

"Please, Monteiro. He is literally a forty year old virgin. I won't even have to touch him."

"Your call. Just be careful. Remember, we _are_ surrounded by idiots."

Katarina licked the peanut butter off her spoon and then left her seat. "Fuck yes it is. And you be careful. Get prepared, Zero. No one will volunteer for you."

Jokes on Katarina. Christie knew that already.

Did she ever mention how much she hated the way the pills made her? The nausea, the diziness, how everything went dark for a while, the way her brain felt like a pudding, the muscle pain and the exhaustion. . . . The melancholy. Lord, that was the worst at nights. Because your mind doesn't work right, your body doesn't work right, you're tired and you're entrapped and when that kicks in. . . That's when you realize how desperate you have become. This is your life now. Oatmeal. Peanut butter that tastes like plastic. White clothes. Pills. Doctors. This is what you are. You are nothing but a useless piece of meat who can't even properly think. There was a huge black hole in her brain, that took everything in until there was only the blackhole itself. Which isn't all bad considering her intrusive thoughts, however it affected everything. Getting pieces together or even remembering what you just did was hard. Forgetting what you were saying all the time was hard. Last week, Christie had forgotten to _speak_. That is no joke. While speaking to Katarina, she just stopped. The words wouldn't come out. They wouldn't. It was as if she was drowning in a sea of her thoughts and actions even, she just couldn't remember to talk. She couldn't talk, as if she didn't know how. It took her twenty minutes to regain it back, fully. Which was why she kept bouncing her leg as she waited in the hall. The Psych ward was smaller but more complex, there were more machines and an impressive amount of meds and chemicals. The machines were frightening to look at. And since it was small, the nurses first called the first three; zero, one and two. She was dissappointed that neither Katarina or Zaf was there but Xiaoyu. There was just something about her that she just. . . Just.

She was like a slug whenever Christie was around and as always, Christie answered with "Mhm." 's or "Nuh- uh." 's only. It usually did the trick.

"Zero, in for the scan please." And it was Doctor Morgan's cue.

And then she entered the smaller room, where Seora waited. She got used to the routine so she lay down as the nurse attached the IV to her arm, did the injections and sticked the cords on her temples. It was uncomfortable, yet you hated it less when it was mandatory. The machine was there to scan her brainwaves while replying to the questions she was asked to. Christie was one of many that was also in the Neuropsychiatric section, for her mental ilnesses. She assumed that her Obsessive Compulsive brain had a lack of seratonin, collaborating with the anxiety, or the adrenaline. According to Seora, the purpose of these were to research her brain waves. How they worked, what they did, what was different than a healthy brain and what was changed. . . .

Usually, that was what would happen.

But this time, Seora just smirked. And then, all was rapid. She reached for the IV and took it off with an inhuman speed, along with the other medical attachments. Before Christie knew, she felt the needle on her neck. While everything went slower and blurrier, the last thing she could see or hear was Seora calling Doctor Morgan and yelling: "Morgan, Morgan! The second one!"

"You go down first," Christie muttered to herself as she drifted off. Seora placed her somewhere else, she felt that. And she could hear Doctor Morgan's hoarse voice, he was probably a smoker.

"Tell them that subject Zero is in phase three! I repeat, Zero is in the third phase! Prepare her quickly, I don't think we have much time left."

MONACO

September 25th, 14: 28 PM

Steve took a sip of the iced tea on the wooden desk and flipped through the pages of the HELLO! Magazine. He fixed his sunglasses and reached for his earpiece.

"Do you have eyes on her yet?"

"Alright, one good new is that she's alone. But not yet. She's about to arrive though, I'll send you the car."

"But Dublin has eyes on her, right?"

" _Affirmative._ "

"You heard her," Hwoarang muttered. "I thought undercover would be more entertaining though." He spat while moving his brush to continue 'painting' the fence next to the apartment. It was a good cover, however not quite his Sensei's method.

"This fence painting thing is racist, you know that?"

"How come?"

"It's Karate fucking kid! Have you never seen it?"

"Karate what?"

Hwoarang rolled his eyes. "Nevermind—Shit! Incoming! Sending you the car's location now." Hwoarang reached for his pocket and took the triangle shaped tracking device. It wasn't bigger than his palm. He sighed and focused, for he only had one shot. He let out a deep breath and leaned back and then it was what it was. "Achoooo!"

He watched the triangle land on the left wheel of the 2010 Benz.

"In your face, Williams. Fox, you're up."

"On it." Steve started the Astra he rented and unlocked the iPad 2 on the passenger seat to reveal a map with the red dot on it. "Dublin, draw me the shortest path based on traffic." He ordered while leaving the café street. "Also, one of you, describe the bloody car."

" _It's a grey Mercedes Benz 2010, sir. There's a G- Corp sign on it's left side."_

Steve was furious the whole time. But Steve was something else he was when he was furious, unlike Hwoarang, he was collected. So, it was only mtter of time for him to get his hands on Anna. After all, blood was thicker than water. Hwoarang wasn't supposed to be in this anymore. They would get the whole picture, do what they needed to do and then he would be out. Steve knew that he had to have a personal chat with Anna about Nina or the fact that she was his aunt. He wondered if Anna already knew that, but why would she? Nina and her weren't exactly the Haley and Alex of sisters. He knew for a fact that Anna took the espionage at G- Corp just to be against Nina. That was how stubborn and irritating she could be. And that was her towards her sister, he didn't really think that he'd be nicer to a complete stranger who also happened to be her nephew. He took a look at the gun next to him, Christie's gun. He liked how light it was. Definitely something that wasn't easy to spot, even by a professional like Anna.

He spotted her. He could see the bangs. ( _Bangs. Those fucking bangs.)_ He started to drive faster while following, by the way she drove he could figure that she knew that he was there for her. She confirmed that by driving to an empty street. He raised one of his brows, and glanced at her mirror, where she glanced back. It was ironic that they had the same eyes, and the same glances. Both were strong enough to break your walls. Steve didn't realize that until he saw them from the outside, it was so familiar yet so. . . Jittery.

He pulled over after her.

"May I ask why, handsome?"

Classic. He sighed with a bit of disgust. "I am here on behalf of Christie."

He saw the attitude change instantly but he knew that it was simply doubt. It really was the eyes. The same explosive eyes.

"And how am I supposed to know that. . . ?"

"Steve Fox. And you're Anna Williams. Let's get over that and talk business. This is what you're looking for, no?" He took out the phone.

She looked around as she smirked a little. "Well, a deal is a deal. The phone first, dear. And please tell your fence painting friend to stop. God knows, he ruined those fences."

So ten minutes later, the three sat in a coffee house. Hwoarang drinking¨his iced coffee and Anna drinking her Turkish Coffee. Steve didn't trust her enough to have a drink next to her. She lit a cigar and started to speak as she unlocked her own iPad. She opened the gallery and clicked on one of the recent images.

"Gentleman, I'd like you to meet the Scallyte. Before all of that, do any one of you remember Azazel?"

"That thing killed my sensei," Hwoarang spat angrily.

"Good. Then telling you this will be easier, the Scallyte is basically like Azazel's heart. But let's just say, more cosmic."

"Cosmic?" Steve raised his brows as he increased his focus.

"The locals in Cairo say that it was created after the big bang, as it was said in the pyramids. It's made out of heat, iron, hydrogene, lithium, brevellin, axinth, luft and qerex. The last four are the things that make this cosmic. The energy levels were too high, so all four were collected in one single atom buried in the depths of the ocean. After millions of years, of course it grew. It's black, the size of a male fist. The Scallyte first made an appearance in Egypt. The writings on the pyramids say that the four cosmic matters were compatible with four people. And they were. One of the mummies had high levels of luft. The rest is mystery, but it's proven."

"So the matter just. . Got inside?"

"Not just, but yes. It chose them. We don't know according to what, but it did. These matters are looking for messengers. Bodies, people to get the energy out. They created miracles. We don't know what they exactly were, because the writings were harmed. But we know about luft and qerex. Qerex had the gift of healing, while Luft is the gift of time."

"Are we actually talking about powers here?" The redhead jumped.

"It's the 21st century, baby. It's the days of impossibles."

"The other two, Anna?"

"We don't know yet. And after we got hold of the Scallyte in Cairo, Nina and her SWAT team stole it from us. Now, they can't use the Scalytte for weapons or such, we're talking about a cosmic thing here. It needs a living, breathing thing. It needs a person, a soul. And after the mummy, the bodily functions of a host were traceable. And who better to start with—"

"The people you already have reports on." Steve completed the sentence. "This isn't a lockdown or a, a Tekken thing, it's an experiment! It's a project for cosmic soldiers. . ."

"I like you. You're smart, you know we could really use someone like that. What's Lili paying you up, dear?"

"Wait. What happens when they don't get what they want?"

"Oh, you mean unreliable hosts? Memory wipe and then wham bam, they're back on their life."

"How do you know all of this?"

"I have a guy there. You know, I was about to use him to bail Christie. But I didn't know that she'd move phases this fast."

"Phases?"

"Oh right. The first phase is where everyone starts, just check- ups and such. They check your physical functions, whether your body can take it or so. The second is trickier, you get numbers and counters with the same sex. This is were the blood samples and the neuropsychiatry starts. It's critical because if you could pass everything before the neuropsychiatrics, they will have a few appointments with you."

"Is there a third phase?"

"It's the final phase. If they find out that your brain waves have the speed, structure they have been looking for, or that even matches slightly with the previous hosts; you're in the third phase. You get exposure to the Scallyte."

"And then what?"

"One girl has been in comatose, medically induced though. I don't know why yet."

"And what do you want here?"

"Get my boss what he wants. And to stop the Zaibatsu from having cosmic weapons, remember; they started a war without them. What do you think will happen with them?"

"Now you want to save the world?"

"Do I look that stupid? God, no. But I do want you to get my guy out of there. We lost connection two days ago and only he has all of the information about the operation. A cosmic operation. I need him."

"We're not helping you. This isn't our thing, Williams. We just wanted to know about our asses." Hwoarang sassed her, bluntly.

"Oh, really? I bet your Julie would love to hear that. . . Or your son, what was that little bastards name, Isang? And you lived in the house near the organic market, right? In Arizona."

Hwoarang froze with fury.

"Wouldn't it be too bad if I, say, accidentally gave an order to blow it up?"

"I will kill you. I will kill you with my bare hands."

"Will you?" Anna smiled. "You didn't think that I'd give the info for nothing, did you? Don't worry, I'll cut the leash after you get Lisa for me; alright?"

Steve sighed, knowing that this was a must. Their lives could be gamblem upon but not Julia's, Michelle's or Isang's.

"We'll do it." Hwoarang said, as he looked at Steve with sympathy, which he responded with a nod.

"Great! Here are your files with everything you need, and these ID cards here are for your covers. Oh, and call me from this number here when you have her." She passed Steve a card.

Anna sighed with glee as she left the table. "It was nice working with you, gentlemen."

"Bitch." Steve muttered.

"Fucking bitch." The redhead agreed. "Are we doing this?"

"We have to. But at least it's not us. We'll be out of this mess forever, after this. Think of it. You, back in America. Me, home. Without being called for some crazy experiment. We won't need to do anything. We'll be free and Roger can make us both untraceable. We'll be away, gone. Free. After one last time."

"One last time."

 **hello! thanks for reading. im tired so there might be mistakes on this but i really wanted to publish a new chapter after a while. love x**


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